


Fire and Ice - A Klance Fantasy AU

by Sakur4i



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blade!Pidge, Character Death, Courting Rituals, Dragons, Drama and Politics, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Game of Thrones themes, Hurt/Comfort, Long-ass fic, M/M, Magic, Multi, Multi-ships, Once Upon a Time-- Bamboo Brush, Romance, Skyrim themes, Warnings/Tags/Rating Subject to Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakur4i/pseuds/Sakur4i
Summary: The tensions between Altea and Daibazaal are at an all-time high; though, war tensions are the least of free-lance archer Lance McClain's worries when a forest nymph with a mullet and a secret crashes into his campsite.





	1. Enter the Archer

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Fire and Ice! Also known as Yol ahrk Iiz, but that's a story for another time. 
> 
> This lovely story is the lovechild of an on-going roleplay that mi amiga Zombi and I have been going at for literal months. There will be angst, there will be fluff, there will be art, and there will be memes. 
> 
> Want to see more art and screech about it? There will be links to our Tumblr's below! 
> 
> Enjoy the fic!

                                                                        

Lance, our lovely archer protagonist, is a number of things: dashing, talented, an _excellent_ sharpshooter, astoundingly handsome, good humored, clever, not that bad at math, and gorgeous. Though, who _doesn't_ want to believe they're Mister ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ in the flesh?

If Lance wanted to be realistic, he would have to look into the _past_ and not into a mirror to see those bitchin blue eyes.

Or at someone else's bitchin eyes.

While he seduced them.

With his own-- okay, Lance liked to be handsome. Point, man.

Despite his profound vanity, he was actually good at a few things. Not skilled per-say at farming or blacksmithing, or skinning a deer or any of that to get a normal people job, but he was _damn_ good at talking and even better with a bow.  Oh yeah, he was down right deadly with it. So, when he was forced away from his home, becoming an archer for hire was only natural.

Occasionally, someone had to take an arrow to the knee; but, he was mostly hired for protection. Just to look intimidating, letting people know he nor his patron was one to be trifled with; though recently, he had taken instead to traveling from town to town in pursuit of lower-risk job opportunities. Currently, he found himself in the forested region of the Galra Empire outskirts-- better known as the Old Wilds. These lands were just as they were described; old and wild. Forest squatters and fugitives of all kinds dwelled in the thicket, which naturally made it quite the dangerous place. Lance considered himself to be just as dangerous whilst equipped with his trusty leather-bound bow; she was his pride and joy, proving to be quite the loyal companion in hairy situations. Although, that didn't make him much less jumpy.

So, when a strong _pop_ and _snap_ pierced the air, one that clearly originated from the thicket rather than the fire pit, Lance jumped at the sound, once drowsy eyes peeling open. In an instant, his trained hand would graze over his yew-bow. The quiver was just within reach, allowing his nimble fingers to tug out arrow and knock it, keeping it at the ready while he stood, scanning the area with careful focus.

"Who's there?" He barked, drawing his bow upon hearing a scuffling of leaves and crackling thistles. The feather of his arrow brushed across his cheek as he held fast, his posture natural and deadly. "Come on out! I doubt you want trouble and trust me, I can bring a lot of it if I want. And I will! If you don't come out right now! Unless you're a bear! Then please, have a lovely day. But seriously, I doubt you're a bear."

Then, out of the bushes tumbled a rather rugged-looking type of fellow. Twigs stuck out from his raven hair and snagged onto his dirtied cloak, making him look more like a some sort of forest nymph. With some sort of prideful huff, the man rose to his feet despite obvious discomfort. Lance lowered his bow only a tick, chin raised expectantly as he glared at him. It was a toss up as to who was more surprised, the twig-creature that had crawled out of the woods or the armed archer. Silence ensued, neither one of them daring to make a move.

“Take it easy.” the stranger beseeched at last, his voice hoarse and hands defensively raised. The cloak that had covered the stranger shimmered with some sort of strange enchantment, having once rendered him invisible.

Lance scoffed when he said ‘take it easy’, wrinkling his nose. 

"With you in a cloak like that! I’d rather not. What are you, an assassin? A sorcerer?"

The fair-skinned stranger looked almost annoyed at the archer’s assumption, lip curled indignantly. "If I was either of those two things, do you really think I would have ran into a bush? With your loud squealing I would've already done away with you." He claimed defensively, eyes dangerously narrowed. To further argue his case, he raised his hands out from his cloak, gesturing to the unkempt condition of his boots. He looked pathetic. The dude even had a _mullet_.

"Maybe you're a cheap assassin. Look, mullet, If you wanna be an ass wipe, go ahead, but do it somewhere else. If you're nice instead, I have water and you can _maybe_ eat."

Apparently, the meal seemed to entice the bristling stranger. His scowl died behind the brim of his hood and his hands floated down to his sides. "Fine." he murmured and swallowed his dwindling pride at last, shaking off the debris before cautiously approaching.

The slack of his hood fell back as he breezed past, giving Lance just the shortest glimpse of eyes that were just as deep violet as the night sky that loomed overhead. They were focused, tired, and undeniably enchanting.

He’d nod and sit back down, offering the stranger his canteen. "What’s your name?"

They eyed the canteen that the archer had outstretched to them, not looking totally repelled by the gesture. He outstretched with his right hand to accept the canteen,  calculating eyes peeking into the brim of the canteen, then to Lance, then back again. An experienced observer could note that his hands were calloused at the palms, undoubtedly the hand of a swordsman by trade.

But Lance, bless his heart, was _not_ an experienced observer. It took him five months to realize a local page was a girl. He wouldn't notice any of it. It was actually impressive he even noticed the man was there at all.

"Akira." They addressed at last, his hands unscrewing the cap before pressing the dainty can to his lips.

"Akira. Hm, Cool name. It's nice to meet ya. The name's Lance, Lance McClain," Lance said with a dazzling smile and a quirky salute. 

Seemingly satisfied with the archer's answer, Akira echoed, "Lance McClain." He dragged out the words, bobbing the canteen in his hands as he spoke. 

Easing to the opposing side of the fire, Akira eased himself down and took a seat. Even Lance with his lack of observational prestige noticed the hitch in breath as Akira settled, likely due to some wound or otherwise.

“So, Akira, what brings you this close to Galra grounds?" he asked, flipping his fish with a tiny flourish and a pleased smirk.

"I could ask you the same thing." Akira shot back, fidgeting with the canteen's cap. 

"Im looking for work and stuff. Nothing fancy!" Lance took Akira’s response in stride, snagged his canteen back and went to take a sip. When nothing came, he shook the canister and peeked inside; empty. The archer pursed his lips before giving a huff, tossing the canteen back onto his make-shift sleeping mattress. "So, uh, how hungry are you? I still have my fishing line in case we need to snag a couple additions."

"That won't be necessary, whatever you have that is extra should suffice." Akira replied insistently, growing silent when his stomach betrayed him with a low gurgle.

Before Akira had even answered, the archer already started sifting through his pile of miscellaneous supplies in pursuit of the fishing line. It took him only a moment to assemble and only a second more to toss it into the stranger's lap.

"Go catch some more or make sure this doesn't burn and I will. Either way works." Lance said with a shrug, returning to the fire and flipping the current fish once more.

"Right, got it." The stranger murmured, easing up onto his feet as he studied the strange little contraption Lance had tossed. He looked befuddled, as if he’d not seen a _fishing pole_ before.

"Cool, cool." The archer flashed a grin his way, then made a soft, "oh!"

He reached onto one of the old, cast-iron plates he carted about whilst on long trips; and, scooped up what was left of a much older fish, slid the blunt of his carving knife just below the eye socket, and popped the article out before placing the shriveled thing in Akira’s hands. "There! This should work for bait!"

Akira’s lip curled as he looked at the morbid article Lance had dispensed in his hand. He forced a weak grin, which looked more like a grimace than anything,  and nodded, "Yeah, got it."

Lance snorted at the tiny grin, raising a brow and putting a hand on his hip. "What, haven't you been fishing before?!"

"Of course I have!” He pulled his violet gaze up from the slimy eyeball in his hand and clenched his fist, not exactly enjoying making eye contact with it. “Well, even if I _haven't_ , any fool with a string and a stick should find it easy enough to consider himself a fisherman." Akira replied both bitterly and defensively, which served as a nasty combo.

"So you haven't been fishing?" Lance smirked with unrelenting smugness, strolling over as he nibbled on a torn swatch of fish jerky. "Cmon," he insisted, gesturing to the babbling steam, "Lets see your fishing skills."

Akira sputtered for a response, but collected himself with an indignant huff after failing to come up with a response. The man all but growled as he placed the pole and eye aside, shedding his ragged cloak.

"Woah, shit’s getting real. You took your cloak off."

The man turned up his nose at Lance’s quip, taking back the eyeball and the pole. There was water that rushed a couple of strides and turns away from them, clearly indifferent about their minor squabble. The water was a deep blue, murky and almost completely overridden with all sorts of vegetation. Fireflies, mosquitos, and moths went about their merry way, quietly avoiding the bullfrogs that sat like landmines amongst the rocky riverbed.

Akira took a deep breath and exhaled, grimacing at the sight of the eye once again. The moment of truth came, and he found it within himself to jab the gruesome bait onto the hook.

“Holy cow. You've gotta be some sorta rich dickhole. Are you gonna put it in the water or nah? I could catch a fish with my hands faster!" Lance would call from the warmth of the fire-side; smiling and watching him with bright eyes, leaning back and enjoying him struggle. 

"I'd love to catch one of these malnourished fish as much as you would, but your screeching is going to drive them all downstream!" Akira whipped the rod as he snapped at Lance, clearly not looking at all towards where he was aiming.

As one might expect from a someone who's never fished a day in his life-- the line cast all the way across the shore and tangled itself in a thimbleberry bush.

Snorting a little and shooting a look his way, Lance called out once again, "So, you wanna ask for help all nicely? Or are you gonna go get it?"

Akira looked the archer square in the eyes; then, in all of his hot-headed glory, plowed straight into the stream and proceeded to wade across to the other side.

"Dude-- dude are you-- oh holy shit. That's how you get trench foot, idiot! You gotta take off your socks, man!" Lance couldn't help but snicker as he watched him, putting the pan down and slipping his boots and socks off, rolling up his pant legs and sloshing after him. "Akira, holy shit, just go eat, I got this," he laughed.

"I'm already this far, just let me get the fucking fish eye." Akira continued to slosh through the cold stream, his voice cracking and legs wobbling. He was clearly worn out, but not enough so that he'd let Lance take care of his mess. For him, it was apparently more than a fishing line.

And so Lance watched the other, seeing him pop out with ‘one less boot then he started with’, and gave a sad smile, wading downstream to try and find it. Lance would read the shore again, quickly killing a few mudbugs with his knife and plopping them near the fire. "I got extra socks if you need em, too. Wet socks suck more than mullets."

Akira mumbled something in response, sounding quite similar to what Lance said-- with the exception of having added a lethal amount of sarcasm and spite.

The disheveled stranger followed the trail of string all the way into a collection of thimbleberry bushes, seemingly pleased to have finally found where the line had strayed towards.

Out of _nowhere_ , a loud and displeased screech came from the bush. Akira whipped his arm out, and along came a plump and tangled up bird. It was ugly as sin, brown feathers and small shriveled eyes-- kind of like a demon chicken? It's beak was latched onto the fishhook, apparently having been enticed by the fish eye. "...Can we eat this?"

Lance jumped at the awful sound, whipping around and seeing the chicken in Akira’s arms. Instantly, the archer fell for the bird’s charm-- or lack, thereof. "Awww. Cmon. Shes so cuuuute! How could you wanna eat her?" He asked with a big ol’ smile. "Lets name her! How ‘bout.... Becky. Yeah! Becky the chicken!"

"What the hell are you on? We're not naming the chicken, we're gonna eat it." Akira squinted at the archer, shaking his head. The chicken, or rather ‘Becky’, squawked at her holder and pecked at his gloved hand, causing him to drop the demon bird onto the ground. She flopped around pathetically, clearly too stupid to untangle herself. Akira raised his lip in disgust, folding his arms against his chest.

"Look at it, we'd be doing it a favor."

"Why? She's precious! You're being mean to her, come on," Lance walked over and untangled the bird, patting her head a little. "I wonder how she got out here. How far are we from the nearest village, I'm just heading east." He watched the hideous creature, smiling pleasantly as though it wasn't awful in _every_ way.

"There's a farming town just a few miles south of the Galra borderline, but I don't see how this chicken would've gotten this far." Akira’s scowl softened some at the content cooing sounds that emanated from the demon bird-- perhaps he wasn't a complete misomaniac after all.

Lance would respond with some more cooing, petting her back with nimble fingers and stood straight again, smiling at Akira.

"Go eat, there's some fish left. I'll catch some more. The way you fish is a little too advanced for a mere creek," he teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Akira eyed the duo with a stone expression, eventually cracking under the silence.

"If that thing pecks out your eyes don't expect any sympathy from me." He replied whilst spinning on his bootless heel. His tone carried no heat for once, almost sounding amused.

* * *

The archer would come back within a half hour with two fish and another crawdad hooked in his grasp. "Still hungry, Akira?"

Akira, half passed out beside the fire, had his chin rested against his curled up knees, staring into the fire behind dazed eyelashes. The glow of the fire illuminated the sharpness of his jawline as well as the curve of his nose, features that were all stunningly regal. He rubbed his eyes upon hearing Lance's voice, but even so he was still clearly a little out of it. "Yeah, a little."

The archer blinked a bit, a bit taken back by how the light of the fire danced on his face, then cleared his throat.

"Cool, cool. Just get ready for a treat!" He smiled and flopped the fish in the pan, holding it over the fire and listening to them sizzle. "Why are you out here anyways? And how'd you get that cool cloak?"

Akira clenched his hands onto the cloak that enveloped the lower half of his body, clinging it close to his chilled body. "Family heirloom. I've had it since I was nine... used it to sneak out after dark." He replied-- not _completely_ lying. "Trying to get out of Galra territory. Everything's going to shit there anyway."

Lance nodded some, reaching out and touching it gently.

"It's amazing. Huh. You must have some cool family history." He listened to his little story and flipped the fish, nodding in agreement. "Ugh, yeah. The king is absolutely awful. And I've heard his sons aren't much better. Rumor has it, they are total brats. Heard the youngest one got into trouble. Guess he can't get by with daddy's money anymore." He smirked a little.

"I guess.” Akira shrugged indifferently, suddenly more interesting his his bootless foot than their conversation.

Lance offered him a fish and a few of the crustaceans. He leaned over and began digging in his bag, pulling out a pair of thin and ratty but sturdy boots and an old socks. He placed them beside him and went back to eating.

"I got myself new ones a while back. Didn't wanna waste them just incase. They aren't big so. It worked. Want em?"

Akira raised a brow and looked at the boots, his eyes narrowed as he looked back to Lance.

"...Do you just get a kick out of being overly giving or are you expecting me to pay you back?" Akira finally asked, chin raised.

"No, dude, what the heck. I'm trying to to be nice, what’s your problem?" Lance chewed on the fish a bit, rolling his eyes. "You want em or not?"

"Sorry, where I come from people don't usually give handouts." Akira apologized semi-genuinely, taking a bite of the fish Lance had prepped. Not bad as far as fish goes.

_"Where I come from people don't usually give handouts,"_ Lance mocked, snickering a bit. "You must be a rich kid. Or you were raised by ocelots or something. Its called being nice."

He looked over at Becky, who was aimlessly pecking at the ground.

"Are you seriously going to keep that thing?" Akira gnawed at what remained of the crustacean in his grip, gesturing at Becky with his finger. He let Lance's mockery go this once.

Good god that bird was _hideous_.  

"I dunno yet. She seems to like the wild life!" He smiled back at her, making all sorts of goofy little noises.

"Thing probably had diseases like you wouldn't believe." Akira scoffed, growing silent almost immediately after, setting the bit of food he had left down on the ground.

"Well, all the more reason not to not eat the pretty girl." He sighed and smiled, tugging an old blanket out of his bag and wrapping up in it.

"You are one strange forest hermit."

"I'm not a hermit!" Lance exclaimed with a raised voice, placing a hand over his chest as though offended. "I'm a traveling woodland archer! See? Much better." It sounded better than mercenary, anyways.

Akira, unconvinced, adjusted his cloak, feeding off of the warmth it provided. It was getting late. A yawn tugged at his jaw and he quickly found himself tempted by the lull of sleep.

"G’night… mullet.”

Within moments, the party was passed out-- comfortably basking in the blissful heat of the campfire.


	2. A Pact

                                                                     

Lance talked in his sleep.

Most of his words were jumbled spanish vocables-- strawberries, lizards, etcetera. None of it was decipherable, all a big coalescence of word-stew. He’d fidget and toss, which, of course, wasn’t entirely ridiculous because he slept on an old cot that was more or less the _least_ comfortable thing in the world to sleep on; but, he’d wake up with the sun, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; rubbing sleep from his eyes as though he’d just woken up from resting on a feather comforter and velvet sheets. The archer within moments was up on his feet, scouring for berries or eggs or whatever else may prove sufficient for breakfast nearby bushes and grooves, all with Becky clucking faithfully at his heel

Having succeeded with his gathering session, Lance plopped a few mauve duck eggs into the already sizzling pan, glancing over to Akira and nudging him with his foot. "Hey. Akira. Pretty boy. Hey. Mullet. Rise 'n shine. I got breakfast."

By the looks of it, Akira had _no_ idea what or who the hell was talking to him. Whilst Lance rose with the sun, Akira vehemently cursed the sun and everything beneath it. He remained curled into his cloak, it's magical properties dormant for the time being, rather taking on the look of normal shoddy fabric. His raven hair clung uncomfortably to his neck, slicked with morning dew and mist. When he opened his eyes and saw a tall guy with crystalline blue eyes, the hooded outsider was a bit taken aback. It was only when he heard the chicken had it all flooded back. He finally responded with a small, "Breakfast?", before groaning and rising.

"Yeah! Eggs. Found this duck nest, so, hope you like eggs over easy." Lance smiled at him a little and looked back down at them, poking at them with the stick.

Akira sniffed at the air, picking up on the smell of the griddle. Man had an appetite, so clearly feeding him was the best way to get a docile response out of him. He took a moment to run a hand through his hair. Disgusting was the best way to describe how it felt. He was starting to think that the chicken was better groomed than he was and that was a tragedy.

Lance quirked a brow at Akira, his lips curling in a smug way. "Heh. You're a mess. When's the last time you bathed?"

Though Akira, as vigilant as ever, didn’t even skip a beat in snapping back. "That's rich coming from a forest hermit."

"Fine, fine. I'll freshen up after we eat.” the archer chirped with a grin, winking at him and grabbing his pocket knife, poking at one of the eggs and sniffing at it. “You should see me when I'm _actually_ cleaned up. I'm hot as hell."

"...Yeah, I'm sure."

"Im serious!” Lance wrinkled his nose, ears a bit red as he glanced away, only slightly hurt. “Oh whatever."

Not picking up on Lance’s damaged ego, he wiggled over and took a stab at the eggs that bubbled in the pan. "Are you sure Becky isn't offended that you're eating eggs?"

Lance was actually a bit taken aback by the stranger’s sudden concern for the chicken’s well being, his response coming out a bit slower than initially intended. "I don't think so. Birds eat other birds, so I doubt its a problem." He watched the chicken mull around, scratching at the back of his neck.

As soon as Akira got a small taste of the eggs, within the next moment he had already laid waste to half of the pan. Dude was a growing boy and was thin as shit, so it wasn't too surprising. "I suppose not." He replied nonchalantly in between mouthfuls.

Lance snickered, finishing off his eggs own share with a content sigh. "I never bothered asking, did I? Where are you headed?" He asked, tilting his head a bit. "Anywhere good?"

Akira opened his mouth to answer, but ended up choking on his lack of answer. "Not, uh... Not really. Just kind of freelancing, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders then cleared his throat; then, the raven-haired man abruptly jumped to his feet and snagged the boots Lance had gifted to him the night prior.

The archer watched him hop up, digging in his bag and pulling out a rough bar of soap. "Where you goin? Gonna take a leak? There's a honeysuckle bush over there. Lotta privacy. Nice smell. Good place to pee."

"Does everything have to be open with you?" Akira shook his head. He didn’t give Lance the chance to respond a second time; already having floated along towards the narrow forest path. "I'm heading to the river, don't wait up."

"What-- hey, I was gonna wash up first! I made breakfast, it's only fair," Lance told him, waggling a finger and jumping to his feet. He rushed about, scooping up the pan and waving it at the retreating Akira.

 _“You_ were the one who told me to take a bath, right?"   Akira snorted crossly, already shedding his socks and cloak. He unbound a strip of fine ribbon from his wrist, reaching up and binding his hair up off of his neck. During the swift motion, he cast almost challenging glance over his shoulder. "Besides, it's a large river, I'm sure there's room."

Lance clicked his tongue and whistled, shrugging his shoulders as he breezed alongside him; if there was one thing that Lance loved, it was a challenge. "Fine, I thought you said I wasn't good looking but hey: I can see why you'd wanna be nearby."

"You'll stay on one side of the bank, and I'll be on the other. So we'll be very, very far away from each other." Akira gave a bitter smile, carrying along his trademarked venomous tone, “If I’m lucky, the current will drown me.”

"Why? So I'll give you mouth to mouth?" Lance proceeded to tease, having successfully silenced the bitter forest nymph.

As he neared the riverside,  Lance tugged off his shirt, closing his eyes and stretching a moment before shimmying out of his pants and hopping in the water; leaving Akira gaping at the shoreline.

Lance was made for the water, it was undeniable. He was tan, lean, and water shimmered in the light making him look nothing short of wonderful. He dove under a second and popped up, running his hands through his hair, stealing a glance at Akira; whom by the way had the air sucked straight out of his lungs at the sheer sight.

Upon being spotted, Keith whipped around as soon as Lance resurfaced. Lance frowned only a moment as the raven strolled off, but his smile was quick to return as he waded in the cool stream.

Akira, beneath the cloak, harbored fairly simple attire. A cotton shirt, just as battered as the rest of his clothes, as well as simple slacks. What was truly curious was the skin beneath-- coarse muscle. Muscle built up from sheer battle as opposed to a farmer boy’s or freelance archer’s, scattered with jagged scars, dark bruises,  and tender wounds

Though what came from the seemingly tough renegade seemed to die down on the ‘manliness’ factor. "Is the water cold?"

"A bit. It's colder than it was in my village but it's not bad," Lance said, chewing his lip a bit as he eyed the jagged discolorations of flesh. "How'd you get those?" He asked pointedly at the scars, beginning to scrub himself with the shitty little soap bar.

Akira simmered, looking down at his scars. "Again, does _everything_ with you had to be open?" He shed what remained of his garments, dipping into the deep end of the river with a disgruntled yip. The floor beneath was rocky and rigid, much unlike the soft sands that blessed the beaches in the south.

"Geez, someone's cagey,"  Lance pouted, washing his hair and snorting at the little yell. "It's like swimming, take a breath, you weenie," he laughed, shaking his head.

Akira rubbed the water against his face with a huff. Dirt and grime wore away from his forehead and cheeks, ebbing both his salty attitude as well as the salt of perspirant. Kind of gross; though, with the gross also came the less gross. Akira, despite his scars and ugly hair, had a pale complexion akin to a fair maiden’s. Which, yes, contrasted well with his raven locks-- even Lance could grant him that much.

The archer watched him contiguously, lazily floating on the surface. "You're even paler when you're clean, my gosh."

"Yeah whatever, stay on your side of the river you creep." Akira floated subtly away from Lance, eyes flicking to the other side of the river with a glance that was nothing short of a presentiment.

Off in the distance, a tumult of thunderous pounding sounded. He followed Akira’s stare, but found nothing along the opposing shore-line. “Hey, wh--”

"Shit!” Keith hissed, snagging Lance by the arm and pulling him behind the cover of one of the river rocks that jutted from the steady stream.

Lance squeaked as he was grabbed, splashing a but as he was pulled away, shooting a glare at Akira and wiping the water from his eyes. "What happened to staying on your side?" He hissed in return, nose wrinkling and face scrunching in a contentious snap.

Akira pressed his hand flat against the lower half of Lance’s face, muffling his pettish quarrel. His violet eyes locked onto Lance's with desperation, flicking over suggestively to where the sound of a patrol riding past was coming from. Lance struggled a moment, still trying to bitch until their eyes met. He was silenced at last, frozen solid upon hearing their aggressors approach the bank.

A few gruff voices and dismissive tones came from the guard-- Galra on the hunt, by the sounds of it.

By the look on Akira’s face, Lance could only assume that _he_ was the man they were on the hunt for. The archer did his best to peek around the corner of the algae-slick rock, wincing as a sharp edge prodded his side. He fell still and didn’t try again after Akira pressed his chest against his, keeping him steadily pinned.

There was silence for only a moment, grumbling and barking ensuing as the Galra hunters scoured the bank for signs of life. Time pressed on, but so did Akira. He was set in stone, not budging an inch for the longest time.

The loudest  of the militia, with a vicious snarl, sounded a call that caused the entire patrol to snap to attention."We head further south! The prince couldn't have traveled far without his horse!’

_Prince?_

Lance listened to them, jaw falling open under his hand as he put two and two together.

The look Akira gave him confirmed it all.

“Oh _shit.”_

When the last of the thundering patrol faded into the distance, Akira’s gaze yanked free from the shoreline, as did his python-grip on the lanky archer.

Lance was shirtless with royalty; kept teasing _royalty_ ;  and, to top it all off,  made fun of _royalty_ to his _face_.

He stood straight and cleared his throat, quickly trying to regain all of the composure he’d just lost.

"W-well.. that explains a few things."

Just as quickly as Akira had subdued Lance, he absconded from the cold river water and was within an instant throwing on his trousers and overclothes, not even pausing to dry himself off. By the time the prince had already grabbed his meager pocket’s-worth of supplies, Lance had _just_ managed to wade his way to land.

"H-hey wait! You’re running off? Alone? I--" he sloshed after him, slipping a little and flopping out. He didn't know why he was following or trying to be so insistent, but he liked the guy when he was just another traveler, so what was the harm? Besides, it might have had a little something to do with how the guy barely seemed to be able to provide for himself that made him feel the need to provide instead.

 "I've seen you fish, you'd starve in a day," he called, snatching up his clothes and pulling his pants on. "I mean, honestly, your highness. You don't make a convincing peasant, either."

“I have allies in Altea, all I have to do is make a three day travel.” Akira dodged Lance’s logic, just as he dodged the chicken that clucked at his heels. "Look, you've already given me too much. Traveling with me would only end up getting you killed or worse-- I don't need that hanging on my conscience."

So that’s what this was about. Lance fell silent for a moment; then, stepped closer. This was quite the opportunity he’d fallen upon. Or rather, that had fallen upon _him._

"Well, that is my _job_. Keeping people safe. For a price, normally, but hey. It might help my reputation to escort royalty all over, you know?" He offered with arms crossed, tending to extinguishing the fire that still glowed at the center of the camp.

Akira, kind of unexpectedly, quietly thought over the proposition.

Curling his lip at the sight of Becky pecking at the bootlace; with only a slight grimace, the prince scooped up the chicken and gently coddled her at his side. Lance watched with a curious glance, which eventually turned into a fond stare, which then turned into him almost forgetting that he was stomping out a fire and setting his good boots ablaze. From the brim of the cloak outstretched a pallid hand, extended to Lance as a proper instigation of an agreement.

"I, Keith Kogane, disgraced prince of the Galra Empire, would like to propose a traveling pact with the ‘traveling woodland archer’, Lance. Expenses will be covered upon arrival at Arus, whenever arrival may occur." He extended a hand to Lance, his expression was nothing short of regal. His brows corrugated, giving him an air of focus and intensity. He seemed to harbor optimal respect for the offer-- seeing as how he valued his own word highly.

Doing his very best to seem a bit more serious and formal, which when you're Lance  is hard to do, the archer stood up to the prince and extended an ash-covered hand.

"I'll do everything in my power to protect you, your highness," he replied with a dazzling grin and firm grip

The ends of Keith's lips curled into a soft smile once he let go of Lance's hand. "Then it's a pact. We're off to Arus." he confirmed, quickly ridding Becky from his grip.

A bastard prince, a handsome archer, and a mutant chicken; quite the uncanny trio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeezed in a *short* chapter for the sake of Spicy Boi™️'s Birthday <3
> 
> Thanks for the warm support thus far, y'all are amazin' ( ^ w ^ " )


	3. Chicken-feathers!

 

Their supplies were limited. 

A frying pan, bundle of kindling, seventeen arrows, two shoddy blankets, and a rawhide sack filled with half a serving of jerky would hardly enough to sustain two fully grown men. Keith certainly was the less fortunate of the two, having trekked several days without even a fourth of what Lance had been traveling with; which in all honesty, wasn't much to begin with. Lance hoped that, since the guy was a prince, he'd at least have some gak to pay for decent supplies; though, even if he had enough to buy a small estate, it wouldn't mean jack if they didn't make it through the Wilds.  Fauna in the Old Wilds were, more often than not, wise and old; dangerous creatures, they were. Stories circled of great beasts that knocked over trees and others still that lead men into the deep recesses of the woods, only to make a feast out of their innards. Lance wasn't superstitious per-say, but he wasn't about to take any chances. 

The warm season was growing short, which would soon bring autumn. The leaves above were already losing their green luster and instead taking on warm ambers, striking reds, and subtle violets. Deer were on the move, so Lance was sure to have his bow at the ready in the off chance that they'd cross their path. Water babbled just down the way, hidden just out of sight by a mound of churned up dirt and moss. Keith was the first to press on, having been on edge ever since the encounter at the river and was quite adamant about leading. He stopped just short of the rapid's edge, overlooking the rather hazardous looking stream with a perplexed sort of look on his face.

"We must have missed the bridge." He claimed; alas, all that remained of said bridge was a jumble of wooden planks swept downstream. But our Lance was an opportunist, and upon looking up and down the river, replied, "You see those vines over there?"

Keith narrowed his gaze, looking at the vines Lance was suggestion they swing on. Unstable and dangerous... yet very tempting. "You can't be serious."

"I’m dead serious. What? You wimping out—”

"Race you there." 

“—pretty boy.”

Keith’s feet hit the ground hard, kicking up clumps of loose dirt as he went. His dark hair fell loose, no longer hidden by the mute red of his hood. By his shorter, compact build, it was clear he was built for short distances, for sprinting. The build, of course, that Lance had gotten to experience quite closely just a few hours earlier. 

Though no amount of sizing up, checking out, his competition would help him; because by the time Lance had processed, the prince was already half-way down the groves of vines. 

The archer gasped aloud and sped after him, not quite as fast, but holding his own. Keith managed to snag onto the vine much before Lance got the chance, hardly a challenge. He wrapped the vine around his wrist and gave a winded smile, stepping back for extra momentum. "You coming?" 

"Oh, shut up, Becky slowed me down," Lance screeched, smoothing out his disheveled toffee locks, weaving the vines . "Yeah, I'm ready." 

Keith’s eyes were focused on the other side of the river, the vines in his grip threatening to snap simply by the sheer force with which he gripped them. There was an air of ‘ _ oh shit, he’s not going to make it _ ’ just before he charged— but, then that boy  _ flew _ . 

He charged over the river like a comet, cape billowing just barely over the turbulent water’s surface. His boots grazed the churning water as an ice skater’s blades would kiss the ice beneath their glide, leaving a small seam of disturbed water in it’s wake. His,  _ Lance’s _ , boots clunked onto the solid shore, his body raising from the impact like a gymnast. This fucker had an expression that either made Lance want to kiss him or kill him (certainly without anything in between)—  _ beat that _ .

Lance snorted and sprinted forward with little to no regard for gaining momentum. He swung with all his might, actually having quite decent form up until the very end when he, bless his heart, tried to do a flip. More or less, he just flopped, sprawled everywhere on the other side with arrows scattered amongst the marshy ground.

"Graceful." Keith smirked and clapped his hands together, wiping the dirt from them. "You really stuck the landing." 

The archer quickly stood, brushing himself off and going red in the face. "Kindly shut up, your highness, at least I don’t have a mullet." 

"Are you really going to milk that insult the whole trip?" Keith watched Lance brush himself off, overly smug and frustratingly pleased.

"Yes, I am. It's hideous." 

"Not nearly as hideous as the chicken," The prince pointed to the other edge of the river, expecting the chicken to be stupidly clucking about. He was kind of looking forward to seeing Lance’s dumbfounded look upon showing him that he’d left his ‘precious’ companion at the other side; but, that’s when the fiendish hen clucked and pulled at his shoelace.  _ How  _ exactly Becky crossed the river, he didn’t know. All he did know is that he shouldn’t be surprised. "Are we seriously dragging it along this whole trip?" He raised a brow, not daring to make eye contact with the thing. 

"Why not? She’s fun! Look at her!" Lance leaned down and presented the scruffy chicken with a toothy grin. "What? Scared of her?" 

Keith flinched at the sudden closeness of the chicken, backing off and resuming the trek. "No, it's just a hassle to carry." 

"You’re scared of a  _ chicken _ ? Ha!" He snickered some, a wide grin on his lips.

"You would be, too, if you saw the way she ate that fish eye!" Keith jabbed a finger in the general direction of Becky before immediately retracting it, probably out of fear that she’d peck at it. 

"She was hungry. Keith. Look. She's a darling," he cooed, gently petting her feathers back. "Look, by the end of the day, if you don't love her, well set her free." 

Keith pried his eyes away from Lance and Becky, pulling his hood over his head. "Better say your goodbyes now, then."

"Oh, don't be so  _ dramatic _ ," he teased, jogging in front of him so he could see his face. "C’mon, your highness, I gotta see that purdy face of yours." 

"You're insufferable." The prince pulled down the brim of his hood, peeking at the archer just beneath the hem. "Keep your eyes on the road, you're supposed to be looking out for bandits." 

"You know, growing a beard and cutting your hair would be far less conspicuous. Just sayin. People are gonna see the feet and it'll click that, 'hey, this cloak is crazy,' and then they'll be suspicious and then they'll see your face and be like 'gee, whiz, it's the prince!' Trust me. I know how these things work," he said in a teasing tone. He watched the road, smiling, watching as Becky began waddling ahead of them. 

"I was going to save this for later, but I guess if it'll put your mind at ease." Keith sighed, clearing his throat before reciting a small mantra. At the end of the little spell, he reached up and removed his hood. The cloak shimmered for a moment before taking on the form of a shoddier robe— most shockingly, Keith took on the appearance of a wrinkly old woman that seemed to have a severe spinal alignment disorder. 

Lance’s jaw dropped in amazement  _ and  _ disgust, staring at him with wide eyes. He sent a tentative hand to Keith's face, tugging gently on his skin. "That's amazing... absolutely amazing. Heh. I'm sorry to say though, you wouldn't win a beauty pageant like this. How long will this last?" 

"It lasts on charge, so not long. It'd be best if I saved it,” Keith repeated the mantra and the spell reversed, leaving him the same as before, “but excuse me, I’m  _ not  _ an ugly grandma.”

"My Abuela is prettier than you'll ever be." Lance pointed out proudly, his chest puffing out haughtily. 

"Abuela... Grandma?" The prince's head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he tried his hand at translating. 

"No, Keith, my left toe, yes my  _ grandma _ ," Lance laughed, rolling his eyes as though it was painfully obvious. "So, I'm guessing you don't speak it." ‘

"It's not my strong suit." Keith rolling his shoulders, a soft series of cracks coming from it. He looked onward, taking in account of the scenery as he nonchalantly explained, "I know several languages, Spanish never stuck." 

"Seriously? Dude, it's so easy! What else do you know?" 

"Latin, French, some Alkari, as well as some Altean..." Keith listed off a series of languages, though only those did he actually enjoy trying to learn. "Y'know, basics and such." 

"Wait, wait." He snickered some, shaking his head. "Latin and French but not Spanish? And you can grasp Altean, but not Spanish?" 

"Yeah, that's literally what I just told you." Keith relayed, clearly missing the point of Lance's comment. Surprising. 

"Dude. Spanish  _ spawned  _ from Latin, French is a romance language, Altean is insanely hard. You're.... you're a dork," he teased, nudging him. 

"I am not a dork, you're the dork. How was I supposed to know that a forest dweller would know about romance languages?" Keith nudged him back, watching as Becky waddled ahead of them. "So, you mentioned your Abuela; what's your family like?" The prince asked, visibly regretting it as soon as he let it slip. 

"My family?" All that bravado evaporated from his voice. Lancegave a happy little laugh and a wide, sunny smile. "Big. Big and wonderful and loving and better than I could ever hope for. My mama is the best woman in the world. My brothers and sisters and their kids. And my papa... they're all absolutely amazing. I love them to pieces." Now just by looking Lance, you could tell had one of those large families— hell, he was probably even a mama's boy. Keith was always respectful about the way commoners adored their families as he was jealous of their closeness. Even so, it still melted his edgy heart just a tad at the way Lance's face lit up just talking about them. "Sounds nice." Was all he could muster, smiling weakly. 

"It was," Lance said rubbing his arm a little and smiling at his face. "I uh.... I'm guessing yours is different." 

"Yeah, but it's alright. No family is the same right?" Keith attempted to chuckle, but it only ended in a depressingly weak huff that ended in a gruff sigh. "It's in the past, I won't bore you with details." 

"No, come on." He bumped his hip with his own, smiling at Keith. "What am I gonna do? Walk in silence? No. Do you know how many jobs this incessant need to socialize has costed me? Let's hear it, mullet." 

"This is stupid." The prince rolled his eyes, but caved in anyway. "I'm really only half-blood royalty, my mom being some sort of low-blood and my father being lord ass-wipe Zarkon. I grew up with my mom until I was about three, then the emperor caught a whiff of my existence and snagged me up in order to cover up his tracks. Threw a crown on my head and announced that I had been kept out of public eyes because I was ill or some shit like that." Keith relayed as though it was common news, which was both surprising and saddening to the archer’s ears. 

He frowned and nodded a bit as he spoke. "That's... that's really sad. Do you have any idea where she would be? Your mom?" he asked, looking back down at him. 

"My consultant Ulaz spoke of a plague that wiped straight through the town shee lived in whilst I was living at the castle; I can only guess that she was one of the casualties." Keith chewed the inside of his lip, trying to shrug it off. "That was a long time ago, though. I hardly ever saw her anyway so it wasn't that hard to get over." 

Lance caught the way his teeth fell upon his lip and frowned a bit deeper. "Is there a cemetery there? Maybe, uh.. While you're doing Altea stuff, I could check? It's... it's nicer to have closure." 

Keith's eyes caught up off of the ground and flicked over to Lance. For once though, the glance wasn't fueled from irritation or coldness. His violet eyes were soft, borderline vulnerable even, "You don't have to do that, it'd be stupid to risk any kind of exposure to those disease-infested slums anyhow. Bodies were all burned anyway, if they had any sense." He replied, clearing his throat. "Thanks though... Every time I brought it up people would say to move on but uh, offering closure was cool." The prince brushed Lance's shoulder once before awkwardly skittering a little faster, actually trying to catch up with Becky. He was touched, how sweet. 

Lance offered a weak smile. "It's not stupid..." He watched the road ahead of him, glancing up, giving him a gentle look. Becky would dart about, picking at a few leaves far ahead. 

"So.... uh... hope you don't mind me asking. What was it like? When you were held there, when you were t—." The archer began, but was promptly cut short when Becky suddenly squawked and darted into the woods in hot pursuit of something unseen, Lance cried out and stumbled in after her. 

"Lance?" Keith called out, looking up from the ground as soon as he lost sight of his escort. "Lance?!" He cursed and stumbled after Lance, who was stumbling after Becky.

"Come on, she's a feral chicken let it go!" The prince heaved over a log, losing sight of the archer within moments. 

"C’mon, dude, she's our..." Lance voice would trail off, leaves and sticks crunching and crumbling a ways away. When Lance would come into view, he'd be frozen, staring forwards. 

He'd step back some, drawing his bow, eyes wide, an old accent in his words as he breathed.

" _ Pollo maligno _ ..." He swallowed and a stomp sounded.  A  _ gigantic  _ chicken  turned around, dropping half a deer from her bloodied beak. 

When Keith finally caught up, he was too busy catching his breath to read the situation correctly. Hands on knees and everything, this boy was winded. "God damn it Lance, you know I don't speak Spanish." He breathed, breath stopping once he felt the ground quiver. Oh. A huge-ass evil chicken— fantastic.

"It's— it's the name, shit for brains, that's her name, run!" He pushed Keith back with his arm and took aim, the giant beast charging at them with blood-induced rage settled in her bones. Lance held fast to his yew-bow, his aim fairing true to his target as he drew and fired— the grouse-feathered arrow whizzed through the air and stuck firm in the beast’s left eye, coaxing a scream from Becky, who ran and thrashed around, half blind. 

Keith, who’d faithfully not moved an inch away from the archer, spoke breathlessly, before prompting him to run. "Nice shot, sharp-shooter." 

Lance sprinted after him, laughing weakly, a big ol’ smile on his lips. "Thanks, doll," he panted, a tree cracking and falling behind them due to the thrashing of the Pollo Maligno. Ducking from trees felled by the giant chicken, Lance managed to knock another arrow and steady it, allowing it to loose once again. Not so lucky. 

The arrow lodged itself into a tree that obscured the archer’s shot, coaxing a flurry of hurried curses from him. The giant beast flung it’s head from side to side, it’s scaled feet clawing up mounds of dirt as it gobbled.

A third arrow was drawn and the world stilled. 

Specks of dirt floated about like specks of dust, creating a serene quiet. Keith’s hand was outstretched, ready to snag at Lance’s cloak and drag him off, but the archer was firm, calm. The grouse-feather tickled at his cheek as he drew back, the muscles in his back both tense and relaxed. This was his shot.

This arrow found purchase just as the first had, felling the giant beast with a mighty crash and thump. Keith, who’d just had the second run of his life, was infinitely impressed by the skills presented by the sharp-shooter. "Two for three? Not bad..." he panted, glancing back only for a second. 

"H-hey. Thank goodness, right? Puts food on the— FUCK!" Lance screeched as the fallen demon chicken snapped at his heels. He yanked an arrow from his quiver and jammed it it in her neck, yanking his arm away before she could bite it off. 

He panted, the great beast fall again, a hurt look on his face. "Are you alright?" Keith asked, his hand hesitantly finding its way onto Lance's back as he looked him over for wounds. "I told you that chicken was evil." 

Lance, who always could’ve been way worse off, clutched his arm, some nasty looking giant chicken scratches laying there, but that wasn't what the look was for. "I... I thought she liked me." 

"She was a man-eating demon chicken, she probably loved you." 

"You're just saying that." Lance blinked a little, tilting his head to get a better look at the wounds he’d contracted. Keith hissed, looking at the wounds on his arm with a scowl. Stupid fucking chicken. The prince looked up at the archer's face after wrapping a spare swap of cloth around the nastiest wound. "But I mean hey, of all the people she could've chosen to try and eat, she picked you— I mean if I was a huge demon chicken, which I'm obviously not but you know, I would… ah, sorry about your luck?" 

Listening to him wind up ended with Lance laughing, loudly and happily. "If you were a man eating chicken, you'd go after me first? Thanks, your highness." He giggled a little more and fiddled with the bandages. "And, uh, thanks for this, too." 

"Yeah, well, it's hard to shoot arrows with only  _ one  _ good arm, so... You're welcome." Keith let go of Lance's arm and stared at the huge chicken corpse behind them. There was a moment of silence between the two, both of them probably wondering just how they’d managed to survive the encounter. 

"...Can we eat this?" Keith finally asked and raised a brow towards Lance, praying that he would just say yes this time. 

At last, Lance concurred. "Yeah. Yeah we can.”


	4. Boys Will Be Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to 500 Hits! 
> 
> Special thanks to those who are keeping up chapter by chapter <3  
> Art for this chapter will be a bit delayed, but it'll happen *wheeze*  
> Comment, leave a kudo, share, and once again-- thank you ~

                                                                                                       

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* * *

 

"White or dark meat? And how do kebabs sound?"

  
"Kebabs?" Keith asked, tucking his cloak onto a fallen log whilst sharpening his knife of choice.  
The two had collectively decided that the giant fowl was too valuable a resource to ditch, so a few hours of traveling were instead swapped in exchange for some cultivation and light banter as Keith sliced the meat free and Lance kept watch.

  
"It's like. Okay. You cut the meat into cubes, put ‘em on sticks, and cook it. We can make jerky out of the rest!" Lance suggested, plucking up one of the feathers from the ground and comparing it to the small grouse-feathers that were fletched to his arrows. The dusty brown of Becky’s feathers were incredibly dull in comparison to the caramel umber and light creams that adorned that of the grouse fletching, not to mention that they were coated in oily, dark ichor that stained his fingers in detestable slick.

  
Keith worked quietly as Lance spoke, quickly falling into a groove. His crisp white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, though that didn't prevent blood from staining his sleeves. The gore didn't really seem to bother him any, and after awhile he actually started to enjoy the task. He slid the knife into the skin and began peeling it away; then, he wrapped his hands around one of the greasy feathers, lip curling as he plucked it out. "Oh, that actually sounds pretty good." He would reply after wiping the flat of his forehead with his forearm, casting a subtle glance upwards as to get a read on the time of day.

  
"Yeah. I got about a pound of salt in my bag and everything. We won't need to hunt for a while," The archer’s nose turned up as blood leaked onto his arms, shaking the cursed liquid from his hands forthwith. "So, did you ever get a chance to cook back home?"

  
Lance wasn’t a gambler by trade, but being royalty, he guessed that Keith didn't usually get the chance to prepare his own food.

  
"There are two things I can cook—” Keith dropped his knife into the dirt, wiping some of the gore onto his lap, “that’d be shepherd pie and shitty porridge." He announced, glancing over at Lance and flicking a feather at him.

  
"Man, what I wouldn't give for some right now— hey!" He laughed some, flailing his arms a little to get the feather away, plucking another and launching it at the prince. The feather, even though it was considerably light, managed to projectile on Keith's face once it was launched. He sputtered and tugged the greasy feather off, tossing it to the ground.

  
Lance laughed lightly with triumph, a wide shit eating grin on his face. "Ha— make that three for four." he cheered. "I'm so happy right now, you don't even know."  
Keith spat again, trying his best to rid any possible trace of feather fibers in his mouth. He murmured, rising from his log and walking his way. There was something lithe in the way he walked, like each and every step had supreme purpose. Lance would dare-say that the prince was wolfish in the way he walked-- no, in the way he _strutted_.

  
"Yeah well, I don’t count.” Keith claimed, wiping his chicken-blood covered hands on Lance's shirt as he strolled past.

  
"He— hey!" Lance smacked his hands away and dodged to the side, flailing a bit. "Watch the chicken-hands, slick."

  
Keith chuckled at Lance's retreat in a low sort of way, flinching away from his flailing hands. "Yes, well you struck me first so it was only fair." He claimed; completely contradicting his own claim upon harassing Lance once more, smearing whatever was left on his hands back onto the archer’s cuirass.

  
"You slimy cacafuego! C’mere!" The archer yelled his battle cry, mourning the loss of his lovely cuirass’s untimely tarnishment; and, ran over with his own bloody hands, bombarding his patron with wiping, smearing, and smudging.

  
Keith yelped upon failing to predict the archer’s plan; trying and failing to guard himself from Lance's brutal guerrilla tactics.  
"You get that in my hair and you're dead, McClain!" The prince threatened desperately, wrestling and struggling against his weight until he finally managed to snag one of his wrists after many a failed attempts.

  
That, was where our protagonist got completely one-eighty’d.

  
Lance yipped as Keith pulled on his had, wheezing as he used his legs to propel Lance off of him, before promptly pinning him-- and now the hunter has become the hunted. "Akir— Keith! Keith, let go! I'll die! I dunno how, but this'll kill me!"

  
“Oh now you can't handle it?" Keith pouted out his lower lip and drawled out his response in an ‘oh, I’m sure’ type of tone, keeping his weight against Lance. Incredibly cocky upon flaunting his superior hand-to-hand combat, the prince let his bloodied hand hover just inches away from Lance's face, threatening with a voice so calm it made Lance’s blood freeze, melt, then boil: "Say my hair is cool or the face gets it.”

  
"Not my bread n’ butter! No! I can't!" He squeaked, moving his face as far away as he could, a hint of a desperate smile still on his lips.

  
"Say it. Or, you leave me no choice." Keith's face had within that short amount of time had grown considerably closer, which filled Lance with too many emotions to deal with and he was very quickly running out of options. ‘Get your shit together, Lance.’ he would monologue, gulping dryly as a lock of dark, raven hair became untucked from behind his assaulter’s ear.

  
_"You've got two seconds."_

  
‘Keith has a nice face. A great face. His eyes are pretty. Cute nose. And he’s toned as f— Lance!” He tried to shake the thought, struggling a bit. He could have gotten him off if he really wanted to; but the problem was that he really didn’t want to.

  
"Y-your hair isn't all that bad!" he cried.

  
_Pathetic._

  
Keith tucked a straying tuft of hair behind his ear, straightening his posture. "Those kebabs better be godly because I totally mercied you." The prince rolled off of him and offered a hand-- a truce.

  
Lance took his hand and shook it, ocean blue eyes sparkling. "Oh, oh thank you, your highness," he sighed, flashing a big ol’ smile his way. "And, of course they will be."

  
"You get on that, then. I'm gonna go wash all of this shit off." Keith grimaced, shifting uncomfortably at the way his sleeves clung to his arms. Lance watched him go, with his hair in a state of disarray and cheeks awfully flushed. "Heh, yeah. We look disgusting."

* * *

 

Violet specks in Keith's eyes seemed to be one of the only trace of any visible Galra characteristic on the lad. Naturally of course, he was only half-Galra by Lance’s knowledge. Even so, sometimes the archer caught the impression that something was amiss by the cloud of ‘unknown’ that seemed to waver about the prince-- as well as the strange aura. He must have caught Lance's eyes as well as read his mind.

  
"So, are you waiting for me to turn purple?" Keith jeered whilst biting into his portion of jerky.

  
"What? No, I'm just lookin' at you." Lance played coolly and grabbed some chicken, munching on it as though he was nonchalant about the whole ordeal. "How'd I do, is it alright?" he asked, propping his head on hand and smiling at the other.

  
"This is actually... not bad." The prince remarked, picking at the chicken curiously. Keith took another bite and nodded his head in approval."Really not bad-- almost good, even."  
"Why thank you," the archer said, smiling and touching his chest, looking puffed and proud like a cat sitting on something tall. Keith liked his cooking, and if royalty enjoyed his cooking, then he certainly had quite the skill for it. "It's not my best work, but not the worst."

  
"I'd like to catch a taste of your best sometime." Keith plucked one of the kabobs clean before flicking the stick into the fire, rising to his feet in a hurry. He scuttled around camp, slinging a pack over his shoulder. A piece of jerky hung from his mouth, kept firmly between his teeth. "I'd like to make it at least to the middle ring by nightfall."

  
"Already? Okay, cool. Set the pace, your highness," he said, grabbing his bow and jogging after the other. “Y’know we’re going to be stuck on the road for quite some time if we keep running into mishaps like ol’ Beck.”

  
Keith grunted in agreement, strolling along at a moderate pace. They would hit a fairly populated town later, according to his calculations. Besides, Lance knew the Old Wilds fairly well at this point, so either one of them could have the information needed for finding some place for succor once night fell.

  
Lance took to the prince’s side faithfully, watching the trees and occasionally whistled at birds, gasping gleefully when one even copied him. Keith insisted that it was a figment of his imagination, but Lance was wholeheartedly convinced that he could in fact talk to songbirds.

  
"So, Mullet. Wanna do some sorta trip game while we're walking? It's better than silence."

  
"Trip game?" Keith asked, his eyes still focused loosely ahead of them, even while Lance still had some of his attention. The bird songs were calming and he had actually relished in the silence, but Lance wasn’t the ‘sit and be quiet’ type of traveling companion.

  
"I dunno, like, ‘never have I ever’ or something. Just something to pass the time. We could do twenty questions. Or that thing where you say a word that starts with the last letter of the last word and it's in a category? So... both of those are sorta self explanatory." He glanced at the other with a curiously raised brow, his hands waving as he animated his speech.

  
Keith mulled the options over in silence, before eventually caving, "Twenty questions sounds simpler; favorite color?"

  
Lance’s lips curled with a sense of triumph as he convinced Keith to indulge him, a light scoff passing his lips. “Blue. Definitely blue," he told him with a grin. "How bout you? Is it purple? Gold? Something fancy and royal," he teased.

  
"Red is my favorite, actually." Keith shot back rather simply.

  
"Okay, okay, so; didja ever use your princely authority for something stupid? Like, to cut to the front of a line or pet a cat or something?"

  
Keith’s eyes widened as Lance asked, a suspicious sort of look on his face as though he felt that Lance was some sort of soothsayer. "Okay you got me on the nose twice-- but I'll have you know that I went the whole day without eating because this fat-ass delegate would not shut up about his suggestions towards increasing low-income taxes." Keith unleashed, clearing his throat upon catching his small outburst. “And it, uh, wasn't a cat, it was a lion: one that a hunter had captured and tamed."

  
"Are you serious? Holy shit... see, now I gotta ask, was the lion all soft?"

  
"Softest girl in the whole savanna." Keith relayed, his smile lingering for awhile. "Okay, how many siblings do you have?" He asked, as if already knowing how Lance liked to talk about his family.

  
“Four, all older. Two sisters and two brothers. They're all great. My oldest brother even has kids. They’re amazing..." he smiled, looking down at his hands. "If you could live anywhere, just for the weather and landscape and such, where would you go?"

  
Keith's smile was a small one, yet genuine nonetheless. "Hm. I think somewhere out in the country, maybe. Hell, I wouldn’t even care if it was a shack in the desert; if it was somewhere out of Galra bounds, I’d be content." He replied firmly, arms crossing. He pursed his lips, eyes grazing over the archer once with astonishing focus. Lance squirmed under the look, but laughed a little at the question.

  
"Okay lover boy, first kiss?" The prince called out, looking back ahead,

  
Blushing and covering his face with his hands, the archer groaned,"It was with this girl down the street... we were fourteen and we were pretty sure we were going to be together forever. Her friend was teasing her because she hadn't kissed me yet, so she did and my breath was awful and she wrinkled her nose and everything. It was bad..."

  
Keith tried to keep a straight face for Lance’s sake, but ended up cackling at the sweet image. "Wow, sounds like you're a natural." He finally spat out, still laughing mercilessly.

  
He groaned, his ears burning and hiding his face in his hands. "Okay, well, everyone starts somewhere, I’m much better nowadays." he whined, a small pout on his lips as he looked away, crossing his arms. "What about you, your highness? I doubt yours was much better!"

  
"As much as I’d ‘love’ to say that I had an embarrassing teenage romance-- I’ll have you know that I’ve never kissed anyone." Keith replied, seemingly perfectly content with himself, proceeding to relish in Lance’s discomfort.

  
"Really? Huh. Ever had a crush on anyone-- stop making that face, it wasn't that funny!" He huffed, face pinching and glaring at him, still blushing horribly.

  
"Crushes are for kids!" Keith scoffed, nudging a stone in the road with his foot. "Maybe when I was like, what... five?"

  
"Since when? What else is it when someone makes your heart beat a lil’ faster and you think about the color of their eyes? The curve of their nose? The little way they smile when you look at them? That's a crush, man."

  
"Yeah, okay, sure. In that case, _definitely_ not." Keith tapped his thumb to his two center fingers in a _'blah, blah, blah'_ motion.

  
"What? Oh, come on! You've _never_ looked at someone and your heart pounds and you know. Like, did you have an arranged marriage?"

  
Keith rubbed the back side of his neck, shrugging off the thought. "Well, there was nothing ever set in stone, but there were a few women of noble blood that I was prompted to court. No matter what approach I took I never really felt... _attracted_ to them. Attraction isn't really the priority." Keith explained, hand falling limp at his side. "They were pleasant, but that's all I could see them as."

  
Lance listened to him, nodding some as he spoke. "Hey, you can't force attraction. And if you're happy, that's all that matters."

  
Keith opened his mouth to respond, an almost soft sort of expression meeting Lance’s in surprise, but he instead reconsidered and tried again. “Alright, so… How about fears? Something you’re afraid of.” He asked, his moderate pace slowing to a halt upon seeing a fallen tree in the center of the cobble-stone path.

  
The tree was a _big-ass_ tree, to say the least. All sorts of prickly thistles mounted about it, along with thick branches and winding vines. Roughly, it was about twice Lance’s height minimum.  
"Something I'm afraid of.... hm." He gave a little frown and rubbed his jaw. "Being lost. Like, really lost. Like I don't know where I am and I'm all alone lost. What about you, pretty boy?" He began to try and climb over it without a moment’s hesitation.

  
"Maybe not so much being lost, but uh... losing people." Keith replied, making it to the top of the log after a bout of struggling, getting his cloak caught on a branch upon reaching the pinnacle of the log. He sat there and struggled with it for a bit before flopping his hands on his lap. "You know, close people." The prince specified, looking down at the archer.

  
He nodded in agreement, laughing a little and coming to his aid. He ruffled Keith's hair, just cause he could, and began to untangle it. "Yeah... I understand. I gotta agree with you there." He got it and slid down the other side. “Have you, uh, lost someone close?”

  
"I mean for awhile there I thought I actually did. I mourned him and the whole deal." Keith sighed, watching as Lance unfurled his cloak from the branch. He jumped down after him, checking his cloak for tears. "Shiro is his name. He's been the closest thing I've had for family since… ever, really."

  
"Damn. I'm so sorry, I know how hard that is...." he said in a soft tone, waiting for him, ready to catch him if he fell. "What's he like?" He asked, beginning to walk once more.  
"He's the coolest guy you'll ever meet, hands down. Very strong, mentally and physically." He replied fondly, clearly holding Shiro in high regard. "He could whoop your ass easily.”

  
He smiled some, nudging him. "I dunno. How could he be cooler than you, Mister ‘can't even fish’."

  
"Don't test me, I bet you don't know a single person aside from me that could catch a demon chicken with a fishing pole." Keith nudged him back, with a bit more force, but also with a much lighter tone of voice.

  
"That is true, I don't know anyone else so bad at fishing they catch a demon instead." He shoved him harder, trying to knock him in a pile of leaves and jogging ahead in order to avoid the same fate he’d suffered last time.

  
Keith caught himself at the last moment, grabbing an armful of leaves before chasing after the archer. "Get back here you bastard!" he shouted, darting after the fleeing archer with malicious intent.

  
Lance snickered some, turning around to stick his tongue out. As is Lance’s infamous misfortune, he managed to somehow trip on air and fall flat on his ass, giving the prince just the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

  
Keith pounced onto his opportunity with a locked gaze, running up to where Lance had fallen at full-tilt. "Hah, what a f--!" The prince shouted, only to trip on his tangled cloak. He landed in his own pile of leaves beside the archer, not even lifting his face after experiencing such shame.

  
He laughed aloud, looking at the other and just giggling till his stomach hurt, rolling closer and poking his cheek as cheekily as he could manage. "You're such a mess!"  
"Just leave me here to die, Lance." Keith mumbled through the leaves, his voice muffled.

  
He giggled some, rolling on top of him and pulling at his hair. "C’mon... look at me so I can make fun of you to your faaaace."

  
Keith huffed as Lance sat on his back, still refusing to budge. "I won't give you the satisfaction!"

  
"Pleeeeease?" He pressed his lips right up to his ear just to be extra obnoxious. "I'll be your best friend."

  
The prince squirmed at the closeness Lance had brought upon their situation. He went to respond, face flushed, but a large crash from the bushes interrupted his response.

  
Adrenaline from the chase multiplied tenfold upon hearing the crash, Lance’s weight shifting in order to face whatever had emerged from the thicket. Suspecting another beast, the archer’s lip curled into a frightened sort of growl, though the air was knocked from his as a large, dark figure barreled from the shrouded brush and pummeled into the archer, casting him to the other side of the path with a violent thud!

  
Lance looked up and grunted, grappling with the other, trying his best to grab an arrow. He was far better from a distance, but he really hadn’t the luxury in this fight. His eyes shot over to Keith, who was equally if not more so shocked by the exchange. ‘Run!’ Lance wanted to command, but the cool touch of a blade against his throat prevented him from doing so. His frustration multiplied increasingly as Keith approached the two rather than fleeing.

  
“Keith, no!” he wheezed, just barely unhitching the skinning knife from his belt.

  
Keith shook his hands violently, running up to pry Lance from the assassin's grip. The prince skidded next to them, grabbing hold of the assaulter’s shoulder and pulling, placing his hands over Lance’s chest in a protective sort of display, "No, no, let him go! He's with me!" He pleaded, actually seeming to gain an ounce of surprise from the attacker. “Thace, he’s with me.”

* * *

 

                                                                                                        

* * *

 


	5. Lower, Lower Back

                                                                                                           

 

He felt like his heart would beat out of his chest; like his lungs would burst. The man that had him pinned was insanely stronger than stronger than him, that was undeniable. He felt the blade at his neck, heard Keith's voice ringing in his ears. Looking pale and more than a little shaken, he leaned into Keith's touch, panting softly.

"You _know_ this guy?" He whispered, looking back at Thace with wild eyes.

The Galra that had pinned Lance was large, strong, and intimidating as all hell: exactly the kind of face you'd expect from the guild of ruthless killers and informant. A matte, full-face mask adorned with intricate, silver trim and three ominously large orbs Lance could only assume were used to see through, concealed the man’s face, only adding to the eerie vibe that rolled off of him.

"Yes, I do but-- Where the _hell_ did you come from?!" The prince demanded, checking Lance over for wounds with protective vigor.

A heavy release of breath flooded from him as Thace reached up and removed the mask, his deep amber eyes were slow to shift from the archer he’d attacked onto the prince; with a perplexed, firm sort of look, the man allowed Keith to collect the archer from his grasp.

"I've been tracking you ever since you left the castle, my prince. I suspected you'd have made further distance and grew concerned when you didn't check in at the designated rendezvous... Also, apologies, archer. I nearly gutted you." Thace placed a hand over his chest in relief, checking over Keith from a slight distance. The sour look that Keith shot at him was enough to make the archer recoil beneath the looming tension. Thace didn’t seem surprised, only defensive. “He had you _pinned_ , it appeared much more dire than it was."

His voice was deep, calm. Lance gulped heavily as he listened to him, a nervous sort of laugh escaping him. He nodded some, color returning to his face. "N-no, no, it's okay, heh.. Better to be safe than sorry... I guess... uh... who are you exactly?"

"His name is _Thace_ , he's one of my trainers as well as an agent for the Blade of Marmora. He's part of the rebellion like I am." Keith cut Thace off before he even got a chance to open his mouth, wiping a spec of blood away from Lance's throat with his thumb. The prince explained concisely, clicking his tongue once the bleeding ceased. Lance looked up at Keith when he spoke, nose wrinkling when he hit the cut just right.  

Thace’s ears twitched as he listened in on Keith relaying supposedly sensitive information to this... boy. He cleared his throat and rose to his full height-- goddamn, he was _tall_.

"You seem to place a lot of trust in this… _forest-dweller_. What is your name, archer?" He questioned, voice low and brows furrowed. Lance wasn’t big on the folk-lore that surrounded the fabled ‘Blades of Marmora’, but it was common knowledge that information was a sacred thing to the Blades-- something that was earned and not given freely. And rightly so given the current state of the war. Of course, there was also the popular theory that they were all vampiric demons that snuck into your room if you didn’t smudge lamb’s blood on your doorpost during Harvest Moons-- it was safe to say that Lance wasn’t about to ask whether or not that was true.

"Lance, Lance McClain. We-- we met and uh... fought a giant chicken and um... yeah." He spoke nervously, mostly just trying not to get stabbed or beaten or his blood sucked. He unconsciously leaned closer to Keith's arms, blue eyes flicking back and forth between the two as he tried to get a read on their silent exchanging of expressions.

Keith had locked eyes with Thace for a solid _minute_ , neither of the two budging an inch. A silent argument, it seemed. His arms were wrapped around Lance by now, speaking without saying, 'we're keeping him'. Thace appeared to be utterly dragged by the idea, but with a twitch of the ears and a gravely grumble, he finally submitted and stood. Keith was more than pleased with himself and Lance had _no_ idea as to what had just happened.

"Very well, ‘Lance McClain’. I expect that you only have the best of intentions with Prince Kogane." The man rose to his feet, outstretching a hand to the archer once Keith released his protective clasp.

He froze when he felt Keith's arms, a small smile creeping across his lips as well as a deep flush on his face, reaching even the tips of his ears. Hed stand and offer a hand to Keith, then shook Thace’s with a small smile. "Of course, sir. I wanna get him to Altea safe and sound. Though uh... after seeing me-- I'm a lot better with the bow."

Upon hearing Lance's full explanation, the man sent an 'are you completely sure this is a good idea?' type of glance Keith's way, to which the prince nodded without hesitation.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw working itself into a knot, hand still gripping Lance's.

"I've made arrangements for supplies and lodgings to be offered at each town from here until Arus-- just ask for Shay and everything should go according to plan." The Galra explained quickly, tossing Keith a pouch of gold. "For provisions." He dipped his head as Keith shrugged and turned on his heel to resume their tread.

Only, once the prince had turned did he finally return his attention to the archer, his grip now tighter. "Keep your intentions pure, Lance McClain. The prince is an important key to this rebellion's success... do not make me take aggressive action for any sideways dealings." The man threatened with a low glare.

Lance nodded fervently at the instruction, flinching as the man’s eyes bore down on him: his bright blue eyes wide as saucers. "You can count on me. I'll guard him with my life." He said, chest puffing out a bit and standing taller.

"Give me your _word_."

Deflating like a popped balloon the second Thace’s gaze was upon him once more, he’d shrink once again.

"Y-yessir... you have my word."

The Galra's face softened at Lance's response and he couldn't find it within himself to suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It seems as though Keith has taken a liking to you,” he hummed thoughtfully, "Very well. Go, catch up with him before he treks half of the trip on his own-- keep him out of trouble." Thace let his hand free and shooed him off, blade now sheathed at his side.

He blushed a little, smiling and rubbing his neck with his free hand. "Y-yeah... I hope so," he mused, looking back at him and his stupid cloak and his stupid mullet and his stupid butt. He looked back up at Thace, standing up straight and nodding. "Will do, sir. And... uh... by _pure_ , did you also-- n-nevermind. I uh..." he quickly rushed back to Keith, face all red, holding his bow in his hand just in case.

Thace rubbed the back of his neck as Lance sped off, having to physically restrain himself from going off on that boy. Keith had been his prodigy for over ten years-- hell, he practically raised the boy. Seeing him beside the archer gave Thace a tender jab to the heart, even at this distance he could take notice of the way that his posture changed. Light on his feet, a pep in his step... and even a smile on his face. "Damn kids." He murmured fondly before disappearing back into the thicket, the forest once again acting as his cover.

\----

Keith sped down once he caught the sound of footsteps approaching. He kept his eyes ahead, but engaged in conversation regardless. "...What did he tell you?" He asked, tone overflowing with suspicion. They had been chatting for quite awhile after he left, and that left room for concern on his part.

"N-Nothin, don't worry about it," he said with a tiny smile, a tinge nervous. He cleared his throat for the thousandth time and ran a hand through his hair. "So, I'm guessing you two are really close, huh? How long had you two been training together?"

Keith gave Lance a skeptical glance, but let it go once he changed the subject.

"Ever since day one. He was my caretaker for the longest time." Keith glanced back to where Thace had been standing, kind of regretting not catching up a little more. Of course by now, the Galra was long gone. "Once the Blade of Marmora was exiled for conspiring against the crown, he and everyone else had to evacuate. It's been a long time since we've talked."

"Oh, gosh... sorry if I interrupted. Hopefully you'll get to see him in Arus? You can catch up there, yeah? And what exactly is the Blade of Marmora?" He asked, peering over at him.

Keith huffed through his nose. "The Blade of Marmora is... It's, uh..." he trailed off for a moment, trying to think of the best way to describe it. "It's _facade_ is a guild for thieves and assassins, but in reality it's much more than that. It's an organization for collecting information, namely for restoring the Galra Empire back to the peaceful power it had once been-- even if that means helping Altea defeat it."

He listened to him and his explanation, his eyes practically sparkling. "Thats amazing... oh my gosh. They sound like a fantastic group.'

"They really are. Some of the stories I heard about them when I was little were _legendary_." Keith smiled widely, recalling fond memories of some guy name Ulaz embarking on quests with Thace and a few other names Lance failed to pronounce-- usually a bit on the fantastical side, but memorable nonetheless.

"It's a shame they get such a bad rep."

"It… really is. The Blade’s knowledge has the power to unite the people, yet they’re dismissed as cultists and are hated for it." He frowned, looking at the pathway.

"Hopefully history will remember them fondly.... what sorta stories did you hear?" He asked, smiling at him.

"Well for one, they fought a huge creature that a witch made from a cursed lizard." Keith relayed. "But usually they just go out fight in the resistance nowadays."

Lance chuckled some, shaking his head. "You know, Id doubt that, but I've seen sea serpents and, after Becky? I'll believe anything." He nodded some, still smiling. "Tyrannical emperors do seem more pressing than dragons these days."

"Yeah, no kidding. Dragons haven't been seen in years, anyway." Keith agreed, crossing his arms loosely.

"I wonder why. Honestly. I have to say, I've always wondered what they're like. I've heard they'll talk to you sometimes." He shook his head. "Hopefully they come back, or are at least safe, y’know?."

Keith nodded absentmindedly, appearing to either have lost himself in thought or lost interest in the topic.

Silence ensued between the two for the next few miles. After having had to press Keith to play a game with him earlier, he figured that while talking was a good way to pass the time, it also opened doors to rather dark topics. Guy probably needed a break. He’d only known him for a short while, but he could already sympathize with all of the baggage he had to lug about.

Though after an hour passed? There was only so much silence he could take.

"Probably not even an hour more if walking, how great is that?" The archer remarked casually, whistling and digging through his pack for something to munch on.

Keith, ever the optimist, looked ahead and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Looks like we're a solid few miles off yet, my feet will probably fall off before we get there.”

"Well, hey, we could go straight to the inn and lay down. Hell, maybe they even got a tub. A bath would feel amazing right now, wouldn't it?"

"Beyond amazing. Lake water is the worst." Keith grumbled, shivering at the recollection of the cold temperature.

"Oh, cmon, its a little brisk, but it's still pretty! Not that bad," he teased, a little grin on his lips.

"Maybe if it was a hot spring, then it'd be perfect." Keith suggested, peeking into the coin purse Thace had given them. "Being cold is the absolute worst."

He scoffed, putting a hand on his hip. "It isn't that bad."

"So, whose turn is it?" Keith cocked a brow, looking down at his fingernails and plucking out a clean knife to work at the grime that was lodged beneath them.

Lance was caught a little unaware, not really expecting the prince to be all that interested with the games he’d suggested. "Oh! Shoot, I dunno. Here, _ah_ .... alright. What's your most embarrassing moment _of all time_?"

Keith hummed at the question, pausing his pruning and pointing the blade towards the archer. "You mean _aside_ from face planting in the pile of leaves or when I caught a fucking chicken with a fishing pole? Oh, or maybe when I lost my boot in the river?”

Lance  snickered at the line-up of options, smile growing on his lips.  "It's just _me_! But yeah, more embarrassing than that." He’d nod, pushing the tip of the blade with his pointer finger.

"Hm..." Keith trailed off, not seeming to catch anything of interest just yet. Though a flash of amusement breezed across his focus, must’ve thought of a good one.

"Oh shit, listen to _this_ : I was having some riding lessons, horsemanship and the like, as I went to dismount, the fucking horse got spooked and started running. My foot was caught in the stirrup and the thing dragged me for a solid two miles before Shiro came along and cut me free. It was awful, literally the entire court saw it go down whilst having a meeting in the outside gardens."

Covering his face and groaning for him, Lance’s shoulders shook with a laugh. "That’s _awful_ , my God, I dunno how that could have been worse."

"My back was raw for _weeks_ , I had to be discharged from training for so _long_." Keith groaned, rubbing his face. "Zarkon was pissed and Lotor never let me live it down."

"Oh, gosh." He snickered, smiling some and rubbing his temple. "Is that how you got some of those scars?" He asked, poking at him a little.

Keith's face paled a bit, his hand running against his arm. "Yeah, maybe one or two. Adds to the whole _‘aesthetic’_ I have going on." He laughed weakly, clearing his throat.

"I'm not surprised, Mister Tough Guy. I'm sorry, wait. His _highness_ , Mister Tough Guy." He smiled a little at him. "Okay. Okay. Uh.... got any tattoos?"

"Hey it's my turn to ask a question, 'king of traveling games'." Keith accused, placing his hands on hips. "But, uh, yes. One. You?"

"Well, _you_ were taking too long. And yes, I'm the king. Bow down." He smiled some. "Yeah, one. It's dorky but I like it."

"I need details." Keith grinned, brows furrowed. "What is it, a dolphin?"

"I got like... okay. It's a school of fish, all on my leg. One for each member of the family."

Keith covered his mouth, glancing down at Lance's leg, even though it was covered. "Holy shit, that's precious."

He blushed some, rubbing his neck and smiling a bit. "Shut up...." he said, gently with no heat behind it.

"Your wish is my command." He replied, making a sealing gesture above his lips. It tickled him especially because Keith's tattoo was _definitely_ not so precious.

"My next wish is to see _yours_." Lance looked over at him, rolling his eyes as he watched Keith snoop to catch a peek of his leg, a smile still on his face. "What's it like?"

Keith almost choked on his silence, his face rising in color. He pointed to his lips, pretended to be mute, shrugged, and walked faster.

"Pfft, what's your deal-- y-your tattoo!! I meant your tattoo!" He groaned and hid his face a moment. "Sorry..."

"N-no, I didn't assume that you meant-- I knew you were talking about the... oh whatever." Keith hid his face simultaneously, shaking a dismissive hand.

He took a deep breath, hiding his face a moment. "Cmon, why don't I get to see it? Id show you mine!"

"There's no way in hell, archer." Keith's blush remained, eyes not daring to look even anywhere close to Lance's vicinity. "I was drunk and it was stupid."

He smiled some. "Is it on your ass?" He asked, cheeks a little pink at the thought.

"Get your head out of the gutter, McClain." Keith hissed, growing increasingly more defensive. He was close, that much was true.

"Is it.... oh my gosh. It’s-- it’s on your crotch isn't it?" He snickered some, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh my god Lance, shut up!" Keith scolded, covering his ears. "It's just on my lower... lower, lower back." He mumbled, nearly inaudible. The proper term was tramp stamp.

He laughed out loud, a single loud, barking, "Ha!" Followed by solid, wheezing, _merciless_ laughter. "Oh-- oh my God! A tramp stamp? you're joking-- you have to be joking!"

"Yeah okay, this beats the fucking horse by a mile." Keith wheezed, withering away in his borrowed boots. The prince whined, praying that they were almost off of this forsaken road of embarrassment. "Call it that again and I swear to god I'll lynch another Becky on you."

"What, Keith? Call it a what? A tramp stamp?" He snickered a bit, a wide smile on his lips. "Cmon. What is it? A butterfly? The word _love_?"

"I bet you'd love to know." Keith's eyes narrowed as he pocketed the gold. Just for extra measure, he tugged down his shirt-- even though the cloak was already covering his backside.

Lance snorted at how flustered the prince was at the heatless banter, reveling in the way he squirmed.

"I'll pay attention next time we take a swim, your highness," he teased, hooking his thumbs in his pockets

Keith's blush lingered as he glared at Lance, his boots shuffling in the dirt. "You're so perverted." His eyes rolled, eyes landing on the city gate that laid just a few clicks down the way.

"Im teasing, Im teasing." He smiled a bit, lightly elbowing him. "You ready for a decent meal and a warm bed?"

"Do demon chickens like to eat eyeballs?" He rhetorically quipped, groaning and storming ahead.

Safe to say, Keith shut up for the rest of the trek and Lance periodically found himself checking the prince’s _‘lower, lower’_ back.


	6. Old Friends and a Festival!

                                                                                

It was nigh-past high sun when the two finally reached a village. Forest peeled away into industrialized civilization: cobblestone roads, side-posts, occasional cottages, and the like.

The village was nestled in a deep ravine, sheltered from the harsh northern weather by natural barriers. Pillars of smoke and smog belched from the caverns where the flat earth creased against the steep hills, the smell of churned earth and pitch filled the air.

The gate at the forefront of the village was widely opened as villagers, workers, and soldiers made about their work. Workers of great girth carted troughs overflowing with dusty chunks of earth, each one speckled with small, gentle-blue crystals.

The guards that were stationed at the entrance were heavily invested in a tossing of lots, their attention hardly drawn toward the archer or theprince. Lance kept his head low as they passed, the flat of his side pressing against Keith’s.

The prince tensed beneath as the archer drew close, his form shifting uncomfortably beneath the bulk of his cloak. “What are you doing?”

“Playing the part.” Lance murmured, flashing a dazzling smile towards one of the guards that had picked up on their arrival. “Keep your head down.”

Keith murmured a string of phrases as one of the guards rose from their dice game, and Lance readied himself for a fight. The cool blue of his eyes iced over as his hand fell to his hip, the handle of a dagger nuzzling it’s way into the crook of his forefinger and thumb.

"Afternoon, sir. Could you point us to the inn? We've had quite a long today." He smiled at the guard, keeping his free arm loose for Keith to latch onto.

A lazy look fell from beneath the brim of the soldier’s helm, his jaw working lazily at a swatch of herb.  "Identification." He spat a thick gob of spit just in front of the archer’s boot, but Lance’s smile remained selfsame in it’s brightness-- if not even more so out of spite.

That, Lance actually would be able to procure. "Oh, of course.”

The guard brushed the rough side of his grubby hand beneath the brim of his nose, a smudge of soot trailing behind it. Lance’s smile curdled as soon as the soldier’s eyes shifted to the manuscript, his nose curling at the smell that wafted off of him. Ale, sweat, and sulfur all rolled off of the Galra in waves, almost bringing tears to his eyes.

It seemed they were free to go once the rotten man slung the papers back into Lance’s hands, not that he actually had the decency to even _pretend_ to have actually read them, before he jabbed a slack thumb at Keith. "And the woman?"

Lance glanced at Keith, his breath catching in his throat as he began to formulate some bull-shit reason as to why he didn’t have identification; though, that was before the prince began forcing a few violent coughs, which set all of the guards aback.

"Er... Nevermind. Be on your way." the man shooed them off, rubbing his sooty hands against his cuirass as if that’d ward against whatever ‘disease’ they may have brought along with them.

Lance rubbed his back, gently speaking to him in Spanish as though he was comforting the ‘disease-ridden maiden’. He’d shine a diamond smile in return at the guard, nodding vehemently in false gratitude.

" _Thank you_ , sir. You're too kind." He backpedaled with the prince in tow, saluting quirkily and spinning around. Lance cooed, “How are you holding up, Mima? See anything?”

Keith peeked out from under his hood, arm still linked with Lance's. The magic already wavered, his face reverting ever so slightly, “Up there,” the man lifted a claw-like hand towards the open square up ahead. There was a humble, stone-masoned mead hall that doubled as the local inn.

Lance nodded at the sight, leading them up to the front and slinking in.

The inside of the hut was freshly mopped without a single speck of dust in sight; which, mind you, is nothing short of a miracle considering the close proximity of the mines.

The mines, ah yes. This mining town, better known as Balmera, is one of the few mining towns that still runs fresh with material and ore. After the unexpected usurp of the his royal majesty, the rightful High King, all of the mines were monopolized by the ever-expanding Galra Empire. The Galra were a highly educated race, which would still be the case had Zarkon not gotten drunk off of the vine of his conquest and resorted to violence rather than diplomacy. Now, all of the Galra are presumed to be disgusting brutes just as the guard that had tended to our protagonists had been.

Though we digress.

Upon hearing the two enter, a woman’s attention went from shining the countertop to greeting the two new guests. "Welcome to Balmera, travelers." She beamed at the two, straightening the front of her dress. The barkeeper that tended to them was a tall, muscled woman that could just as easily crush stones rather than polish countertops. "My name is Shay. How may I assist you?"

Lance leaned his elbow against the counter in one smooth motion, his smile as bright as ever in return. “"Hello there, ma'am! The names Lance, Lance McClain. A friend of ours said he made arrangements for… Well, my friend and I--”

Keith, whose enchantment had since expired, let loose the espionage and lowered his hood.

"--The blade remains unwavered."

Shay’s gentle posture tensed, and her mouth rounded into making a small ‘oh!’ sound. She dipped beneath the counter space and unhooked a crudely forged key, rounding about the island. She waved for the two to follow closely and quietly, to which Keith followed without hesitation. He nudged Lance to follow the Balmeran as she walked around the counter and towards the staircase, but the archer wasn’t quite sold on the whole story.

"Your Blade friend paid for a room to bunk in, but he never said there were _two_ of you." Shay relayed hushedly, unlocking one of the single suites that they still had available.  The woman frowned, bowing her head apologetically. "There's a local festival taking place this week, so I'm afraid all larger suites are taken; however, there is still enough food! Our cook will be notified of your arrival, just let us know when you are peckish." She folded her hands together after rising back up to her full height, bestowing a gentle pap against their backs.

"Oh! That'll be good for business, right? And don't worry, no one knew I was coming. Thank you so much for everything." Lance insisted, sending a casual sort of wink her way. Keith took in the room's size and curled his lip.

"We appreciate your kindness, miss. Now please excuse us as we settle." Keith removed his hood and bowed to her, causing her face to brighten before she hurriedly scuttled out.

It was decent for a single patron, but any more than just one made the room seem cramped-- namely the single bed. He’d relax his smile, having exhausted it after all of the acting he’d had to put up.

He stood up and looked at Keith with a pinched look. "I've got the floor, okay?"

"We'll figure it out, I'm not about to banish you to the floor." Keith hung his cloak on the door handle, slicking his hair back. "Let's discuss it after getting something to eat?"

"Oh, it's not _that_ big a deal." He smiled at him, in a way that wasn’t forced nor pained. It snuck up on him in a way, the best kind of way. "Sounds good. I wonder what the festival is for?"

The prince breezed past as if gliding on air, "I believe that it is a festival that celebrates the relationship and overseer between nature and life, _Jiwa-roh_ " Keith replied, eyes straining as though trying to recollect. "Plenty of dancing and feasting, if I recall correctly."

Keith’s knowledge on the subject was actually quite unexpected. A prince as well as a scholar? "Wow, uh… are you much of a dancer?" He grabbed the cloak as they passed, stepping closer and wrapping the cloak around his shoulders. "Just in case."

The edge of his lip curled into a small grin just before he pulled the hood back up, casting a gaze over his shoulder to catch his eyes. "Oh right, thanks." He replied. "I saw the sign of the mead hall, it should be close. Should be plenty of food and, well, _mead_."

He strolled beside him happily, strapping a knife to his belt and staying close to his side. "So, where is it anyways? And are we gonna get lit?" He asked, wiggling a bit his shoulders against Keith’s with a haughty snicker. It had been weeks since his last drink, weeks more since the last time he’d had a _festival_. He didn’t take Keith for the ‘party’ sort of guy, but it’d be a shame if he couldn’t at least get one drink out of him. If Lance was anything, he was persuasive.

"What are you on about?" Keith raised a brow before making a silent 'oh'. "You want to drink, don't you? Use Thace's gold on pagan revelry?"

"I've got my _own_ gold, ocelot-boy, and just _one_ pint, dont worry!" He smiled a little, shrugging. "What? Are you too good for mead? Far too sophisticated?"

"I think you got the wrong idea,  "I haven't had a good buzz in months, I can assume you know why,” Keith explained, "I'd be down to get completely wasted under any other circumstance."

Lance laughed a bit at that, a sort of sympathizing type of chuckle. Poor soul probably _was_ too sophisticated for mead. Shaking his head, Lance held up his hands, "Okay. When all this drama is over, we'll party. Till we’re embarrassingly drunk. So drunk you'd think your tramp stamp was a good idea."

"You bet your ass it seemed like a good idea at the time." Keith snorted, covering his mouth immediately after. What a couple of dorks. He turned the corner and instantly caught a whiff of pastries, a bunch of other delicate cuisines soon to be made known.

 

Jogging forwards to get the door for him, Lance did an extravagant little curtsy, doubling over and rolling his hand in a magnificent gesture. "After you, _mullet_."

"Thank you, _hermit_." He curtsied at the waist in return, shuffling inside with his chin tilted up. You see, the prince seemed a little off-put by the crowd: having grown used to the solitude of the castle and the lesser populated forest trek, he wasn’t exactly in-tune with heavy crowds.

As good as Keith was at faking, the little change in his eyes was undeniably obvious to the archer’s. It was curious how such a small change caught Lance’s eye, seeing as he was about as observant as a walnut, but he caught it nonetheless. "It’s alright, it’s alright," Lance whispered, leading the prince to the counter and freezing, jaw falling open as he eyed the cook Shay had talked up so much about.

The chef was doing a silly, wiggling little dance, humming as he took another tray of danishes from the oven.  He quickly filled bowls and slide them on the counter, shouting, "ORDER UP!" The cook would stop and look at the other, dropping his stew pot on the counter instantly and grinning like the dorky mess he was. Though it wasn’t his little quirks nor his obvious cooking prestige that caught the archer’s attention, but rather the years of previous companionship that he’d once had with the man.

" _HUNK_!" Lance would cry, dashing forwards and embracing the other. The pair laughed a bit, Hunk picking him up effortlessly and spinning him in a rough little circle.

When he put Lance down, he'd grin, shaking his shoulders happily. "It's been years, man! Who’s this guy? And what happened to your skincare regimen, I'm ashamed," the man teased, putting a hand on his hip. "Sit down! Stay a little! Lance, I got somethin you gotta try! Don't worry, it's spicy!" He turned his gaze to Keith, grinning. "What can I getcha? I got a great soup, oh-- I've got this great chicken dish. I'm tryin’ some new styles, too. Menus behind me. So! How'd you guys meet, anyways?" He leaned on the counter with a wide smile.

The sudden exclamation gave Keith a start at first, but after getting some context he finally understood the situation. "Ah... the soup should suffice." Keith replied politely, having already been stuffed with chicken from their little Becky incident. He gave a small smile to the cook, listening in as the two caught up. Small world, it seemed. "Ah... Lance?"

Lance would smile and take a seat, his feet swinging happily. He perked up at his name. "Oh! Right! He stumbled on my campsite and couldn't fish for shit. He caught a chicken instead, but _that’s_ a tale for another time. I couldn't just leave the guy."

"How do you even catch a chicken?,” Hunk snorted, rolling his eyes and filling a bowl for Keith. He placed it before him, along with a little garnish, smelling absolutely divine. Keith pouted into his bowl of soup when Lance relayed the fishing incident once again, grumbling a few insults under his breath.

“And is Lance treating you okay? I know he can be..."

Lance would squawk in protest and be silenced by a dish of fried seafood.

When Hunk asked about Lance, the prince scooped up his spoon and twirled it as he thought. "You mean aside from being obnoxious and loud?" He mused with a pursed lip, stirring the soup once. "He hasn't been too horrible of a host, his sharp shooting makes up for the abuse." Keith took a sip of the soup at last, eyes widening instantly. "This... This is amazing."

Lance dropped his utensil when Keith called him obnoxious and loud, even if he tried to be, but didn't complain, as his mouth was full of shellfish. He sat up proudly as his skills were mentioned, swallowing and sitting up a little straighter. "Hunk, you've truly outdone yourself. And, for the record, I've been a _wonderful_ host, he's just got a stick up his butt."

"Whatever." The prince scoffed, having no real heat in his words as he was too busy gorging himself on the stew. Keith practically chugged the soup that was presented before him, having something that was both nourishing and delicious had been far past due. Even food that he had partaken in whilst being a royal didn't seem to compare-- plus this was much less likely to be poisoned.

He snorted at the bit of bickering, smiling some. At their string of compliments, the cook would gasp softly, touching a hand to his chest, his eyes practically sparkling. "Thank you! Lance, I like this guy, he's a keeper. It's not even my best batch-- oh! I made a new dessert-- you guys are gonna love it!" Lance would grin at the thought.

Lance laughed some, lightly elbowing him. "Don't you whatever me, mullet," he teased, smiling at him. He'd look up to Hunk and scoff dramatically, and just to be a little shit, clearly not meaning it, said, "No, no. He's the worst. Can't wait to leave him." He stuck his tongue out at Keith and continued eating.

Hunk smiled down at them, looking as warm and friendly as ever. "Anyway, how long are you guys in town for?"

"We have to keep moving. I have family waiting in the interior." Keith replied, pointing his pinky at Lance. "This guy has already set my time table back enough as is." The prince leaned on his elbows, taking a quick look back at the crowd. "The goal is to leave tomorrow morning."

Lance would snort at the remark, rolling his eyes and leaning on the table. "I'd argue but you're not wrong," he chuckled, shooing his hand away.

"You two should swing by for breakfast. Where are you staying, anyways? If It's at the inn, would you mind saying hello to Shay for me?" He gave an almost dreamy smile, Lance waggling his brows in response.

"Of course we can." Keith caught Lance's brow waggling and made the connection. "She's very kind." He commented, placing his spoon in the bowl. "She also mentioned the festival that's going on, do you have any details?"

"Oh, yeah. You'll probably see people starting to party in a little bit. It's nice. All about life and the forest and all sorts of good things like that. There's dancing and fireworks and all sorts of musicians! I heard they even have a fire eater! I've got a bunch of little cakes for the buffet! I'd show you around for it but I'll be..." He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar a bit. "Busy."

Lance grinned widely, bouncing in his seat a bit and murmuring a drawn out, " _ooooooooh_!" He'd earn a punch in the shoulder and giggle some, leaning on the counter. "Gonna get her flowers? Put on some of the moves I showed you?" Hunk only laughed in response.

"Oh yeah, 'moves'." Keith mocked lightly, itching his chin. "You'd only set him up for failure."

"My moves are just fine, thank you very much!"

"Akira, you don't know the _half_ of it. When we were sixteen--" This coaxed a large groan from Lance and he hid his face. "When he was sixteen! There-- hehehe. There was this guy. He wrote him a whole poem! Like, three versus! All about the guy and how great--" He wheezed. "How great he was. He read it outside his window and-- and sang-- and-- it-- it was his mom's window! She came out and t-told him he was t-too young f-for her it was--" he snickered some more, shaking his head. "It was beautiful."

By the end of Hunk's magnificently degrading tale, Keith was in literal tears. "This... That... Holy shit, Lance. I take it _allllll_ back, you're a god among men." He wheezed alongside with Hunk, resorting to hitting the counter top in order to catch his breath.

Lance was dark red, unable to look up from the counted, grumbling quietly. He just hid his face with his hands when Keith spoke, groaning loudly. "I didn't knooooow..."

Hunk coughed and pounded his chest, giving Lance's shoulder a little shake. "He is, he really is. Once, he had this whole elaborate plan to ask this girl to dance at a festival--" Lance groaned again, quickly being shushed. "She already had a date. Oh, gosh, it's good you're pretty." He teased.

"Wow, I'm truly impressed." Keith smiled and gave him a pitying pat on the shoulder. "You'll get them one day..." the prince chortled lowly. "Maybe."

He looked up at him, scowling. "Hunk conveniently left out the mermaid who kissed my cheek , but whatever!"

Hunk let out a pitying ‘aw’ and ruffled Lance's hair. "He's a good guy, Akira, I promise. I mean, look at this face!" He squished his cheeks, Lance looking away a little. "Precious."

"Yeah I get it." Keith smiled and leaned in closer. "So what do you have on the roster as far as desserts go?" The prince asked with a pointed look.

Lance leaned on the table, still looking rather grumpy. "It better be good...."

"Oh, ho, it sure is, buddy boy. I got four layer chocolate cake, I got tiramisu, I got peach cobbler, I even have. I still need a name. I think they call them princess cakes? I dunno. It's good though!"

"Well we have some gold to blow through, so don't be shy." Keith patted his side, his tone low as to avoid letting any other the patrons on to the money they were carrying. Back in Galra territory, thieves riddled the countryside. As far as Keith knew, this place was no different.

Hunk waved a hand, smiling down at him. "You're a friend of Lance's, you're a friend of mine. Want a sampler?" he asked with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You drive a hard bargain, but only samplers!" Keith tapped his fingers on the counter, his gaze set on the chef. Okay maybe his gaze wasn't that stern, he still sent glances Lance's way, feeling both empowered and disquieted by his moping.

When he saw Keith look his way, he stuck his tongue out. "Send it all out. We'll settle up later," Lance said with a little smile.

Hunk saluted valiantly,  going towards the ice box and pastry counter, coming back with a serving tray, setting out all the decadent baked goods with a smile. "Bon Appetite!"

"Merci beaucoup." Keith looked over the platter of baked goods as though it were a trove of gems, his eyes shining equally as bright. Though his reinforced manners kept him from completely gluttoning out, so he politely picked out only a few small samplings at a time.

At the first bite, Lance would moan and give Hunk a thumbs up. "Hunk, Hunk, just give Shay food. If she needs anything else, she's a fool! A fool I tell you!"

Hunk simply laughed and picked a piece of cake off Lances plate, popping it in his mouth and smiling. "It is pretty great, right?"

"Magnifique." Keith gave him a simultaneous thumbs-up. He didn't even know what he was eating, he only knew that it was the perfect blend of sweet and salty. Outside the sound of upbeat strings and percussion instruments began to strum to life, lanterns lighting up the evening air.

Hunk gave Lance a look and he snorted. "He's a rich kid, he speaks French," Lance explained with a little smile, looking over to Keith and taking another bite of perfection.

“Thanks, buddy. Hey, keep in touch, if you ever need a thing, come find me! You seem nice." At the sound of music, his eyes widened, most of the patrons leaving. "Okay, okay, it's almost show time!" He mused, gathering up plates. Lance would hop up, helping out once he polished off his half.

Keith popped one more treat into his mouth before hopping off of his stool. He awkwardly watched the two bustle around, not really sure what to do to help. Obviously, that wasn't something he was accustomed to do-- usually servants came in and cleared everything.

They'd quickly do the dishes, smiling and chatting and giggling like kids. Hunk would stand tall and proud.

"How do I look?"

"Adorable!" Hunk would sag and Lance would laugh and push him a little. "You look great! Go get her, we'll lock up!"

He sat back down beside Keith and stole a forkful of something. "He really likes her, I'm so happy for him! She seems so sweet!"

"They're both sweet, they'd make a cute couple." Keith replied, his eyes still lofting at the door Hunk had gone through. The music played, sounds of children and adults alike singing to a traditional folk tune. He always enjoyed the cheeriness of commoner festivals. In small doses, anyway.

Leaning on the counter and staring out the window with bright, big eyes, Lance let his fingers trum against the countertop. It was beautiful, it reminded him of home. He stood up and cleared his throat, brushing himself off. "You, uh... you wanna step out there? See how things are going?"

"We really shouldn't." He replied, his tone totally unconvincing. "There's still a lot of ground to cover in just two days."

He smiled a little, looking down at him and nodding some. He wasn't wrong. And it didn't help that it wasn't safe either. He leaned against the counter, watching Hunk check himself, looking out for Shay. "Wanna hang out here a while longer or go back to the inn?"

"Let's just go back, no point in hanging out. We have to lock up, right?" Keith slid off of his chair and brushed a few stray crumbs off of his shirt. He avoided Lance's eyes, just making a straight path towards the door.

"Mhm." He strolled around, making sure the doors and windows were locked. He looked at Keith, stretching a bit. He’d open the front door and get the lock, gesturing him out. "After you."

Keith slumped past Lance and out of the door, only to be totally enthralled by the events that were going on outside. Colorful streamers and banners hung from the roofs, illuminated by paper lanterns that floated around the entire square. Children ran about handing out hand painted masks and paper flowers, more than likely ones that they crafted themselves. The prince paused in the mead hall's doorway as he admired the villager's festivities, an involuntary hum rising from his throat.

Lance stepped outside, jaw falling open as he stared at the world around him, absolutely amazing. He watched the kids, a smile falling across his lips. He stepped out a bit more, swallowing and staring up at the floating lanterns. "It's amazing," he breathed, clearing his throat and straightening his back. "So! Uh.... Where are we heading next?" he asked, trying not to pay attention to the scene around him. Thace said they had deadlines. Keith had the rebellion on his back. He didn't want to pressure him. Or get stabbed.

"The inn should be down that way." Keith replied after snapping back to reality, a somber grit in his tone. Just as he went to pull himself away, one of the younger children bumped into his side. The kid dropped his flowers and paints, leaving them scattered at the prince's feet. After processing what happened, Keith bent down and helped gather the misplaced festival trinkets back into the small boy's arms. With bewildered eyes locked onto Keith's for an instant, the child placed a bundle of flowers back into the prince's hands before scampering off back into the crowd.

Watching the pair and looking down at Keith, Lance offered a hand to him. "C’mon, how bout a dance? Just one before bed, then we can say been there, done that, and move on," he said, taking a paper flower and tucking it behind Keith’s ear.

"I... Don't..." Keith raised a hand to protest, but ended up giving into Lance's offer. A heavy sigh turned into a sheepish smile as he finished his sentence, "...Know how to dance?"

" _Really_? Can't dance, can't swim, what am I gonna do with you?" He hummed some, lifting his hands. "May I? It's real easy. I'd be happy to show you how."

Keith rolled his eyes and twirled his finger, "Yeah, yeah, I know." His rolling eyes landed on his lifted hands and the prince gave the archer a skeptical look, not knowing if he was being sincere.

The archer smiled at the other, slowly taking one of his and letting the other hover over Keith's waist. "Now, put your hand on my shoulder. Then we sorta step around in a circle sorta to the beat of the music, you know?"

Keith's body tensed defensively as Lance's hand took his, but he found it within himself to relax when the archer smiled. He was serious. His fingers curled at last into Lance's and his other hand found perch on his shoulder. "Like this?"

"Yeah, perfect!" He held his waist, slowly beginning to sway with him. "Is this okay with you?" he asked, humming along with the music.

"It's cool, less degrading than I expected." Keith admitted, his chest pressing against Lance's from time to time. Had he always been that much taller than him? Damn. The prince's eyes drifted from place to place, not really sure where you were supposed to look while dancing... Oh god, he was dancing.

When they grew closer, his face would flush, a smile creeping across his lips. Keith was strong, there was no denying that, but like this, he looked small. He felt perfect in his arms. Lance would clear his throat, looking at the sky. "You... th-the stars are pretty, yeah?" Nice save.

"The... the stars." Keith swallowed hard, almost painfully looking at the hand on Lance's shoulder.. He looked up at the expanse of space above them, smile widening. "Yeah, they are." The prince looked back to Lance and smirked subtly as the slow beat of the lyre began speeding up. "T'as de beaux yeux, tu sais."

He cocked his head to the side, staring into Keith's eyes with a suspicious tone, "What's that mean?" He asked him, spinning him with a little smile and pulling him back to his chest, throwing in a little fancy footwork.

"It means you have big feet." Keith insisted a tad louder than necessary, flowing with the spin Lance threw in with only minor struggle. The beat kept increasing, villagers clapping their hands in rhythm.

He laughed some. "Well, you know what they say about big feet," he said with a wink, moving a little faster with him. "So, gorgeous, do you trust me?" he asked, spring in his step, moving to every beat.

"Do I?" Keith's hand gripped around Lance's shoulder, his body quickly moving to match the speed of his lead. His gaze was determined and trusting, an unspoken 'yes' to say the least.

A mischievous twinkle in his eye greeted Keith’s consent, followed by short and sweet instructions. "When I say drop, you're gonna crouch down behind me. Okay? And I'm gonna do a couple lil’ tricks, cause I love applause." He smiled widely, hopping with him. “Throw in a little _razzle-dazzle._ ”

"At least you're honest, I can respect that." Keith gave him a nod, his boots scuffing against the cobblestone road.

Lance couldn’t believe how much of a natural this guy was at dancing. He was like some exotic bird of paradise, his dangerous dark eyes tempting the archer every which way until he could hardly remember his lefts from his rights. The pressure of the prince’s hand against his shoulder, their chests lifted and falling in perfect sync: it was as if they were _created_ for this. As though the moves were written in their blood, guiding every action which way until finally, it was time.

When there was a lull in the music, he nodded briskly, a wide smile on his lips as the raven-haired dancer returned his cue in confirmation.  "Drop." He turned around, swinging a leg over his arm, grabbing his other hand and pulling him through his legs. _Everything_ was fast, fluent, seamless. He’d grab his waist, do a lift and a spin, and finally dip him, low and close, panting softly. "How was that?" he whispered, gently tugging him to his chest once more.

"Lance McClain, you do have moves after all." he whispered back, face flushed. All Keith remembered was Lance saying 'drop' and within moments he was wooshed about, suddenly mere inches away from his face... eyes... lips, even. His hood slipped down, but he failed to take notice.

He laughed softly and in that moment, they were the only two people alive. His cheeks went red and he smiled, their noses nearly touching. They’d known each other for such a small margin of time, but within these little moments Lance felt as though he’d known him for a lifetime. A moment, and Lance felt a burning in the back of his mind to do something crazy.

And in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

But instead, he would smile and stare into his violet eyes. "G-Glad you think so."

Everything was a some sort of novel-worthy fantasy, one that Keith would've been utterly disgusted and repelled by merely three days ago. Yet here he was, wrapped closely in the arms of an annoying, handsome, and overall endearing archer surrounded by floating lanterns and a violinist's muse. It was serene.

Especially how time started to slow when his heart sank into his chest. He ripped himself away from Lance, pulling his arm close. The prince said nothing as he pushed through the still cheering crowd, desperately searching for somewhere secluded.

Lance’s eyes would shoot wide open when Keith before him pulled away, feeling his mind tear away from silly feelings. His face would freeze and he'd remain frozen a moment, lips parted.

"K-Ke-- w-wait!" he called, running after him, but his voice was quickly lost in the uproar of the crowd.

Just as his prince was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Sorry for the wait, holidays! )
> 
> hue-hue-hue what a cliff hangerrrr *insert elmo in front of hellfire meme*


	7. Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope it was worth it <3

The music and bright colors that had once been a marvelous spectacle quickly turned into a disorienting mad house, leaving the prince pleading for solitude. He could feel it clawing at his throat, tugging at his stomach.

Why did he agree to this? Stupid!

It would've been better to have just gone back to the inn like Keith wanted, it was an unsafe idea and Lance felt fooling for suggesting it. Someone could’ve seen him. He could’ve gotten hurt.

Or worse, he could've hurt him.

Panting, Lance followed him as best as he could manage. He tore after his patron, more than scared than anything else. For all he knew, Keith could’ve activated his cloak and high-tailed out of there; and honestly? The archer couldn’t pin a single reason as to why he wouldn’t.

The guy was a prince: he shouldn’t have any issue making it out there on his own; but prince or not, Lance had to know that he was okay. It was something deep that compelled him, a sense that hadn’t manifested itself before; at least, not at this level of potency. Lance tried to pin it on Keith jipping him out of his rightful pay, or the fact that losing out on a deal like this would smudge his credibility, but as much as he tried, the more he realized that it was deeper than shallow motivation.

All of the business of town gave way into tall grasses and open fields, a fire-fly ridden meadow on the outskirts of town. Straying lanterns littered the grass every couple of meters, guiding the archer’s footsteps as he trudged his way through the sodden grounds.

His breath stilled as a dark figure rose from the thick grass up onto a sloping hill, doubling over and trying to catch his breath. He'd look up at the other, the pale yellow light from candles in the lanterns and fireflies touching his face, his cheeks.

Keith breathed quietly, his hood enveloping his head and shielding his face. The light of the full moon above them cast lavender shadows down on the shaken man, the darkness obscuring Lance’s view on the prince. "Get lost, Lance."

His entire body sagged as the words struck him, an unexpected pang of hurt tugging at his chest. "Please, Keith... I want to know if you're okay..." he approached tenderly, hands raised, "I-- I don't know what I did, b-but I'm sorry this happened-- I just... I wanted-- I thought it would be fun..."

"Don't you get it?" His voice was little more than a whisper, threatening to teeter over the edge into tears. "God Lance, fucking-- open your eyes." Keith groaned, his face whipping over his shoulder in a fit of frustration. His eyes were a sickly bright amber, casting a goldenrod glow onto deep violet cheeks. Sharp claws at the ends of his fingers dug into his arms, threatening to break skin from the sheer force of his grip. His whole chest ached, lungs still working mercilessly from the strain on his body.

Oh shit.

He wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew Keith was purple and quite unhappy.

“No, I don't get it... I knew you were half-Galra,” He slowly stepped closer, kneeling down a few feet away from his side. His fingers tangled in the dewy grass, but his eyes remained on the other. “What's the point in hiding this... You're still the same guy who likes to tease me, and is bad at fishing, and....” He smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood, “and you're the same guy I was just dancing with, aren't you? You're purple, so what? I'd think the tramp stamp was worse."   
While he wasn't completely consoled, Keith still seemed to ease down some. His chin rested on his knees, his eyes closed and jaw clenched.

"I don't understand you."

The sound of crickets’ and fireflies’ wings filled in the gap between them.

"I'm the heir to an empire that’s destroyed countless lives, Lance,” the prince began, ”almost everything I've told you up until now has been lies, and you just think 'hey, that stranger that I hardly know? Yeah, I hope he’s doing alright’.”

Keith sniffed and rubbed his eyes, laughing weakly. God, he couldn’t believe himself.

"Can't even fish for fuck's sake."

The archer wrapped arms around Keith’s waist, feeling him calm down gradually at the touch. The tears eased away with his fingers as they rocked back and forth. Slowly, nothing but the sound of chirping insects and distant lyres filled the night air. Lance scooted closer, gently took his face in his hands and swiped the tears away.

“I'll teach you next time we're by a lake. Actually teach you. It's not too hard once you know how," he offered, the words coming naturally to his tongue.

Forehead resting onto Lance's shoulder once he finally forced the straggling tears away from his eyes, Keith managed to procure of ghost of a smile, the gesture hidden as his face sunk into the curve of the archer’s sloping shoulders. "We could finish the dance if you want to."

He looked down at him a moment, then back out at the meadow. The air gusted in a gentle breeze, carrying the sound of chirping frogs and cicadas, creating a scene unlike anything else he’d seen. "Whenever you're ready. Just relax right now. It's a beautiful night. I doubt that will change soon." He let the quiet of the night creep back in, only to shatter it once more. "You... uh... I know this is sorta weird to say, but.... I... think you're a really, really handsome man... like this, like a human, either way. You still have a nice jaw and a cute nose and all."

Keith's face lit up at the sudden string of compliments. His hand raised to fix a straying hair that had tangled on his ear-- surprised to see that the paper flower had stuck. ""Oh, uh... thanks. That means a lot coming from you."

Lance gave a gentle smile and got it with nimble fingers, smoothing out his hair. He'd laugh softly and smile down at him. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m honored, but why me?"

"Honestly?" Keith looked up at him, chin still propped on his shoulder. "Because you're one of the prettiest archers I've ever met, if not THE prettiest-- and that's a considerable amount." He chuckled, small white fangs peeking from his smile.

Off in the distance, echoes of the festival bards playing their instruments bounced into the meadow. He beamed, smile bright as the sun, his cheeks practically glowing.. He squeezed him once more and slowly untangled himself to stand, offering the other his hands. "C’mon. We’re gonna slow dance."

"Right now?" Keith accepted his hands despite his words, pulling himself back up. Off in the distance, echoes of the festival bards playing their instruments bounced into the meadow.

He nodded some, smiling and wrapping his arms around his waist. "Alright, rest your arms on my shoulders. Or, you know, whatever's comfiest."

Keith stuck out his lower lip, reaching his hands up onto Lance's shoulders. "Shut up, I'm not that short."  
"I didn’t mean it like that, doofus," Lance smiled at that, reaching up and moving the bangs from his eyes, “and to think, you said you couldn’t dance. You’re doing wonderful."

Keith blanked for a second then snorted. "Yeah, I lied about that too." He smirked and swung with Lance, still allowing him the lead.

He snorted. "Okay, okay, cmon, tell me this much. Is your name actually Keith?" He asked, mostly teasing. "Do you want to lead?"  
"I'm not the leader type." Keith shrugged, his hips swinging in tune. "This is fine for now." He smiled in response. "Have you always known how to dance?"

"Uh huh! My mom taught me when I was really little. How bout you?" He asked, stepping a little closer, chest to chest with him.  
"I took lessons when I was fourteen." Keith replied with a shrug. "I wasn't a natural; hell, I’m pretty sure that my sense of rhythm ditched me years ago, but with time it finally stuck."

The archer swung with the prince, simpering all the while as Keith recounted numerous occasions in which he’d stepped on the toes of duchesses and duchess alike, how he had managed to offend some grand island marquise by foxtrotting instead of waltzing and how he honestly couldn’t tell the difference between the two. How very like him, Lance thought. The whole time, and it was his expressions that conveyed his emotions moreover than his words. In all honesty, Keith could have been telling him the recipe to corn stew and Lance would be wrapped right around his princely finger.

So wrapped up in fact, that Lance the suave lover-boy was humbled into something he was normally not self-characterized as: cripplingly, truly enamored.

 

 

"I know you’re not gonna be totally honest with me, and I don’t blame you.” Lance spoke out after a string of silence, drawing Keith’s attention away from his ramblings. He was listening, oh god. “There’s dangerous stuff going on, but I want you to know, I like you. Like, uh, the way you smile with me, I like hearing you laugh and I think you’re a good person so… Yeah."

Keith watched Lance's eyes as he spoke, completely unreadable as fucking always. Lance had the idea to skip town, suddenly and painfully aware of why Keith had darted off in the first place. Except Keith hadn’t just announced to the entire congregation of fireflies that he was falling for a guy he had legit zero chance with.

A second passed, then two, then basically eternity passed in Lance’s silent torment. He was convinced that even the frogs were probably laughing at him now. The frogs.

Though, Keith didn’t let him suffer. Not for long, anyway.

His hand pulled away from the archer's shoulder and fell to his waist, taking Lance's hand in his own before swiftly bringing it up to his lips. "Let's just dance, alright?"

It was princely and polite and sweet and absolutely wonderful. It made his heart dance and stole his breath. He give a soft laugh and nod. "Okay," he wheezed, leaning down and touching his forehead to Keith’s moving blissfully in the moonlight.

His eyes flicked to the side, when Lance pressed his forehead to his, a smile curling on his lips. A triumphant hum purred out of Keith once he released Lance's hand, his posture returning to what it once was. "I almost don't want to leave tomorrow."  
"I can see why... This town's almost as beautiful as you."

Keith wound up and punched Lance in the chest. It wasn’t his strongest punch, by any means, but he still made the archer recoil. "Oh my god you didn't."

Lance laughed cheekily and rubbed his chest, only wheezing internally. "I sure did."

The prince scoffed, his hands fidgeting with the full blue fabric of Lance’s shirt as they swayed. “So, archer, where are you going to go after we get to Arus?"

He listened to the question, humming softly, brow furrowing in thought. On any other occasion, he usually had a line of jobs waiting on him, but work was slow as of late. "I don't have any idea yet. Normally I just move where work takes me but, well, who knows."

"Yeah, who knows." Keith repeated, eyes transfixed on the grass below them. "Things are going to get complicated on my end, that's for sure."

"So, uh. I guess you’ll be staying there awhile?" He asked, wishing he'd look back up at him for some reason. Well, he knew why. "Complicated how? You’re not gonna have to do anything too crazy, are you?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I just have this... feeling, you know?" Keith muttered with a shrug. "The rebellion is getting serious. A war is on the brink and The Blade is about to get caught straight in the middle— that means me. I can't afford to have... distractions."

He closed his eyes a moment inhaled, nodding a little. Once again, the frogs fell silent. He gave a weak smile down at him. "I understand... I can go as soon as you need me to when we get there."

Keith nodded silently, looking up to Lance at long last. "We have tonight." he offered, throwing in the beat of a waltz into their little swing dance.

He gave a small, raw smile. One night, he could make do. He would nod and follow his lead, beginning to box step with him.

"C--" Lance cleared his throat. "Can I kiss you?” Woah, that just came out of his mouth.

Keith spun them with a strong lead, a coy smile on his lips."...Did you stutter?"

Lance gave a soft gasp, eyes widening and smiling a little brighter, a fond look on his face as he watched the other, adoring each and every move. "...No.”

Keith shook his head with a smile, twirling himself in Lance's arms.

"I'm nervous. You're a prince to me in more ways than you think," he squeaked in defense, bliss smudged on his face as he watched him spin.

“I'm an ex-prince,” Keith flinched as a firefly landed on his nose, puffing a bit of air so that it would continue on it's merry way, “just to be exact."

Lance watched it blink once on his nose, listening to him and smirking.

"Who needs a kingdom when you got a face like that?" he cooed, dipping him a bit and leaning in, pressing his lips to Keith's.  
Keith was ready to banter back, but his opened mouth was silenced by Lance's returning boldness. His hands slid behind Lance's neck, pulling him in closer. His lips were soft, not unlike how Keith had imagined-- but good god this was so much better. He pulled him closer-- Keith actually, truly, seemed to be enjoying the kiss. He tilted his head gently, a hand tangling in his hair, humming and smiling ever so slightly into it.

Meanwhile, Lance couldn't believe he did it; he was kissing the disgraced Galra prince.He had eyes like twilight that had turned amber and glowed like the afternoon sun. It felt like a fairy tale and he couldn't believe how perfect it was.

The prince was the first to pull back, face wonderfully disheveled and flushed-- and fully reverted to it's pale self.   
A midnight kiss, huh?

Majestic and magical as hell.

"K-Keith?" His eyes widened, gently reaching and stroking his kiss. "You.... you really ought to give me a run down on the whole Galra thing. Cause I'm kinda confused right now."

Keith's soft violet eyes poured into Lance's, not even aware of his current state. "What are you talking about?" Keith's brows furrowed as his glanced to the side, catching a glimpse of his arms. The prince looked from one arm to the other. He said nothing, but the confusion was blatantly plastered on his face.

"Is.... is this not normal?" he asked, tilting his head a bit. "D-did it hurt? I-- I just-- are you okay?" He held his face in his hands, staring into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Keith shook his head and grinned widely. "No, I didn't even feel a thing." He placed his hands over Lance's, leaning in and stealing a second kiss.

Lance whooped and chuckled, swinging Keith once around and placing him flat on his feet. His feet, which still were snugly tucked into Lance's old boots. "Man, seems like you loved the kiss as much as I did."

"Quiet you." Keith rolled his eyes, pulling away from Lance in order to smooth out his cloak. He went to say something else yet fell quiet at the sound of activity in the woods.

Putting an arm in front of Keith and drawing his dagger, Lance turned to face the source of the noise, "Show yourself!"

The sound of metal bumping against metal and gruff grumbling echoed from the brush, dark shadows shifting. Out of the woods marched a squadron of guards, all armed to the teeth. All of them surrounded the same, massive guard that had been stationed at the gate earlier that morning, guiding a squad of Galra scouts. "There they are." The guard pointed to Lance and Keith, to which the Galra raised their weapons.

"Wh-- I don't understand, we've done nothing wrong, sir," he said, trying to play innocent. He backed up a little, still in front of Keith. "Are there criminals out here? Should we warn the town?"

One of the sentries cocked a crossbow at their hip, aiming it towards Lance. "Prince Kogane, by order of the crown you are under arrest for high treason and conspiracy." They demanded, the squadron slowly circling the two.  
  
Okay, so talking wasn't going to work.

"Very well." He called out, not willing to put the archer's neck on the line for being careless. "Lance, get lost." Keith hissed before stepping away from behind his arm.

He gripped the dagger tight, unable to peel his eyes from the guards. Lance grabbed Keith's shoulder, hand firm and steady. "I'd sooner rot," he whispered back. In one swift movement, he hurled his dagger straight at the sentry's eye, diving for his crossbow.  
Keith growled and snagged reached into his borrowed boots, equipping a knife in each hand. The sentry Lance had attacked dropped it's weapon instantly, clutching its eye in agony.

He backed up, loading the weapon and kneeling down, shooting an arrow through the back of the leaders knee. He loaded it again and looked up. "Keith! Go! Get out of here!"

"Not likely, McClain!" Keith whipped his body in a swift spiral, sending two of the knives rocketing into the necks of the sentries. He dashed to their fallen bodies and snagged the blades back before moving onto the next.

So much for their one night of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the boys ever get a moment's peace?
> 
> Spoiler: Probably not~!


	8. Taujeer Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY 1000 HITS, aaaaaa!
> 
> long-ass chapter for you guys, hope you enjoy!

"What am I supposed to do if you get yourself hurt, hm?"

Lance loosed another arrow, the projectile whizzing past the brawling prince and wedging itself between the soft gap in armor that was a Galra soldier’s neck. Keith was quite possibly one of the most aggressive brawlers Lance had ever seen, he’d never seen such a small looking fellow decapitate a heavily armed soldier so effortlessly.

Sure, it was morbid, but it was also kind of hot.

"We need to get a move on.” the archer prompted as Keith pulled his sword free with a gruesome ‘shunk’. "I dunno if we should even spend the night here."

"We should've went back to the inn." Keith shook some of the blood off of his blade, cursing swiftly under his breath. "The next town is over ten miles away from here, we'd never make it on foot."

"H-Hunk might have a horse. Look. I'll figure this out,” Lance insisted, collecting his arrows, “We're getting you somewhere safe."

Keith trailed behind Lance as he began to shamble back through the high grass. "Fine, we'll ask. Otherwise we'll have to break some out of the stables." The prince sheathed his blade, quickening the pace as urgency began to set it.

Slowly, Hunk and the festival came into view. He was with Shay, but the moment he saw the look on Lances face, he’d excuse himself and come over. Lance glanced behind, making sure Keith was close in tow before whispering his request. "We need a way to the next town. Fast and discrete."

Hunk was caught unaware by Lance's request, but lacked any hesitation after processing how desperate his friend sounded. “I-I’ve got a cart? We can fill it with hay, you two can hide in that,” he suggested, placing his large hands on their backs and navigating them through the masses. “ I’ve got a horse, and maybe I can convince Shay to borrow hers. I can tow you there… Lance, you better be serious about this."

Lance nodded his head and gulped, commenting as to much he’d rather it all be some practical joke. "Keith, stay with Hunk, I'll get our things-- wait-- c’mere." He looked down at Keith and furrowed his brow. He’d be picked out in a second if reinforcements came in, especially since he could only assume his magical cloak was fresh out of magic whatnot. So, he licked his hands and slicked Keith’s hair back.

The prince was repelled by the gesture, whacking at the archer’s hand and moving to smooth his hair back into place; though, Lance caught his wrist and held it, keeping his eyes firm.

“Ah, tut, tut! Cool it, your highness, I’m working here.” He took some of the face paints of the festival and just sorta went crazy, smudging it in nonsensical patterns. Then, he gave him a thumbs up. "There, that should do it. Inconspicuous, I hardly recognize you. Now, don't be stupid!" he called, sprinting to the inn.

At first Keith was thoroughly repelled by Lance messing with his hair, but ended up giving him kudos for creativity at least. He followed up with Hunk, trusting that the archer could at the very least snag their things without getting caught.

"So, uh, c-can you tell me what’s up or no? Did Lance do anything stupid? And are you a murderer or something?" He asked, squinting at the other. He threw open the doors and calmed a large, pale brown horse, easing him out.

"No, Lance didn't do anything wrong this is my fault." He admitted, giving the horse space as Hunk lured him out. "And no, I didn't kill anyone."  

He nodded some, stretching his arms and pulling out a worn cart, beginning to hook his horse up to it. He grabbed a pitchfork and began forking in hay, throwing some lumber and bags of flour in as well, for good measure. "Are you okay? Like, seriously. Are you?" He'd ask, stepping closer and looking Keith over a minute. "Can you tell me whats going on? Or is that 'classified?"

 Keith assisted in tossing in whatever he could as Hunk formed in hay, his ears acutely attuned to any guard activity that may have been occurring outside. Lance had better hurry, things were getting a little hectic. With a grand sigh, Keith placed a hand over his chest and replied,"I'm not just a traveler that Lance picked up on the side of the road. I'm with the rebellion."

He'd sigh a moment, a small smile on his face as he shook his head. "Leave it to Lance to pick up part of the rebellion like this. I'm glad you're not an axe murderer. And, seriously, stop by sometime. I've heard most rebels are thieves and killers and horrible and all, but you seem great!" 

Keith leaped up into the hay pile as soon as Hunk took his place at the helm, camouflaging himself between the goods they'd packed in the back in order to make it look less shifty. By now, guards were littering the city streets, shoving past festival goers and herding them into semi-manageable groups. The prince almost found it amusing how the Galra got so easily disoriented by the loud noises and bustling villagers-- up until of course they started using more brute force. “Come on, McClain…”

* * *

After seeing Lance and Keith's distraught faces, Shay almost instantly caught whiff of what was brewing. She allowed Hunk and Keith to go on their way, catching up with Lance halfway to the inn. "What happened?" She demanded, quickly unlocking the back door.

Lance would jump some and follow after her, quickly darting inside and gesturing for her to follow as he sped to their room. "Look, I'm not sure how much Thace told you and how much I'm allowed to tell you, but there's trouble and some guys caught up to Keith. We need to move out of down, and fast. Throw em off our trail," he said, grabbing their bags and his bow, slinging his bow onto his back and speeding down the stairs.

Shay's face scrunched up as she thought over their options, softening once she had made up her mind. "Very well, I will distract the guards while I can-- to buy you time." The woman rushed Lance out of the door, tossing whatever belongings he hadn't snagged already up into his arms. "You will have to ride through the night, but you'll make it to Taujeer before sunrise."

He nearly tripped as the burly woman pushed him out of the door, fumbling to catch a few straying items. "Thank you so much... I wont forget this." He caught the rest and gave her a sharp nod, as well as his signature dazzling grin. "By the way, gotta say it, Hunk's totally smitten. Geddit, girl, he's a catch. I'm not just saying that cause I'd be the best man, but honestly, seriously. Hands down. He's a great guy. Also he gives good back rubs, so. Totally worth your time."

Her face flushed as Lance spoke, a firm hand patting/punching his shoulder lightly as he went.

"Keep him safe!" She yelled before barreling into the crowd, making a tumultuous war cry while the caravan made its getaway: especially so when one of the guards took notice of the fleeing cart, she straight up _punched_ the man in the jaw, standing her own against a group of guards. Upon hearing the ruckus, a few villagers (some, mind you, were rather drunk) got thrown into the mix, and soon enough the whole square was a spiraling riot of fists and telling

Lance gave a goofy little bow, wincing and backpedaling as the guard got a face-full of fist. Then began his sprint to the stables, ending with him panting and plopping everything in the cart.

"Hunk, make a move. Shay's _delightful_ ," he wheezed, a hand slowly reaching out and trying to hold Keith's arm. He would do anything in his power to keep the guards from touching Hunk. He hated doing this to him, but hey. Bros helping bros is important.

He'd blush at Lances statement, nodding some and hopping on the front. Hunk winced as he heard the shouts of the crowd, shaking his head and giving the reins a crack."You guys owe me. Big time!"

"You're a lifesaver, Hunk!" Keith exclaimed and gripped one hand on Lance’s shoulder and the other on the edge of the cart as the wheels hit a loose stone, once out of the town's main quarters.

He eased into the hay, and Lance kept his bow close to his chest, eyes slowly slipping shut. They popped back open after a minute, watching as the stone turned to dirt on the road.

* * *

Keith had finally gotten a moment’s rest.

The lull of the cart against the road mixed with the warmth of the hay sort of lured him into an unexpected slumber, one which he snapped in and out of periodically. In and out of consciousness, Keith began having a harder and harder time realizing what was a dream and what wasn’t. First, he was looking up at a sky filled with flaming reds, oranges, and yellows. Again, but this time it was a azure blue. Once more, though it was completely dark.

The last time he awoke, it was to the feeling of something warm atop his head. Keith reached up to find out whatever it was that was ruffling up his hair. It was comforting, and had it not been for his curiosity, he likely wouldn’t have questioned it: low-key expecting it to be the archer. Though, as his eyes and ears adjusted to the waking world, he tuned to the sound sight of Hunk and Lance talking. The two boys were chatting away as old friends do, snacking on leftover Becky jerky. They sat on the edge of the cart, so that means that that it definitely wasn’t Lance. Instead, it was Hunk’s horse chewing on the hay, licking the top of Keiths head in between mouthfulls. With a start, the prince snapped to the side and ducked his head away from the munching horse.

Hunk and Lance paused simultaneously and looked down at him with morning light beginning to fall against their faces, Lance chuckling with a small smile. Hunk stood, yawning some and lumbering over to his horse, scratching the back of his neck. "I think he likes you."

"I think he likes my _hair_." Keith specified, still trying to smooth out the mess the horse had made.

"We better call the fashion police on your horse, too," Lance teased with a lazy smile.

Hunk scoffed at Lance’s quip, patting his horse’s back with a rough yet affectionate hand. "Bucky here was lookin' tired, so we're letting him take a little break. We'll get back on the road in a bit, dont worry."

"He probably wasn't expecting a midnight trail ride, was he?" Keith patted the horse's nose softly, receiving an apologetic sniif from the horse. Satisfied, the prince rolled out of the cart and onto his feet. His legs were _beyond_ numb and his mouth was incredibly dry: more than likely from sleeping in the hay pile. "No trouble, then?"

Lance would stand up beside the other, patting his back and offering a canteen. "Not yet, no. Hopefully it stays that way, sleeping beauty."

Keith took a swig from the canteen he was offered and exhaled heavily, sending a small smile Lance's way.

Hunk would look over at Keith, frowning softly. "Lance... won't tell me why they want you so bad."

"He's just trying to look out for you, I'm sure." Keith replied softly, scraping some of the dried paint from his cheek. "But since you did save our asses, I'm sure we owe you an explanation, don't we?”

"I just didn't want to get stabbed. Thace didn't seem like he'd hesitate to stab me," Lance mumbled in defense, scratching his cheek. The archer fumbled around in his pocket, pulling out a few miscellaneous oddities before finally procuring a handkerchief. He lifted it as though he was almost scared to hold it, handing it to the prince with a discomfited grin.

"Well you looked like you were trying to gut me, Hunk seems much less threatening than that." Keith replied, taking the cloth from his hand before wiping his face clean.

He rolled his eyes a little, soft smile on his lips. He reached out and wiped a bit away with his thumb. "Hush. I'm perfect."

Keith dipped his head and pushed Lance's hand away from his face, tossing back the handkerchief.  Regardless, the prince extended his hand in a reestablished greeting to Hunk. "My name is Keith Kogane, ex-prince of the Galra empire-- and I owe you my hide. Sorry for having to lie about that, the rebellion is a sensitive topic."

Hunk’s eyes widened as he returned the handshake, fervently, giving a little bow. "Galra Akira... Keith! Galra Keith. Wow... That's sorta cool, man!"

“Emphasis on sorta.” Lance hooked his thumbs in his belt after tucking the handkerchief away, wounded by Keith’s usual coldness. "How much longer until we resume?"

The cook patted his horse a bit, pursing his lips in thought. "Uh.... let's say ten more minutes, yeah? How's that sound?"

"Alright, that sounds fine." Keith announced and turned to Lance, jerking his head to the side. "Lance, would you mind coming with me for a quick perimeter check? Now?" His voice sounded quite a bit less suggesting than it did demanding.

"Uh, yeah, sure." he mumbled, grabbing his bow and jogging after him.

Keith raised a flippant hand to Hunk as he walked down the clearing with Lance, waiting a bit before bringing up the real reason he dragged him along. "Do you know what your friend's intentions are once we reach Taujeer?" the prince asked, glancing at the bow Lance carried along.

He shrugged some. "Go home probably. Why? Is there a problem?" he asked, cocking his head a little.

"If the Galra stay true to how they usually handle these kinds of things, there might not be a 'home' for him to go back to." He replied in a forced whisper, his face masking an estranged jolt of guilt.

His eyes widened, jaw dropping a bit. "N-no... what about Shay? Keith, we can't just, we have to help--  or-- or I'll have to. I don't know, but I-- we have to tell him."

"Lance, that's not an option. We have to make it to Taujeer before Lotor comes along or we're all fucked. Hell, the whole nation will be fucked." Keith replied firmly, not really honeying up the ax in any way, shape, or form.

The archer took a deep breath, expression growing cold as he made up his mind. "We just fucked an entire town during a holiday. I'll get you to Taujeer but  I can't leave them behind like that."

"No, that's an even worse idea." Keith stopped walking at this point, staring up at Lance. "What are you gonna do? Loose a few arrows then get beheaded-- if you even make it that far?"

"I-- I don't know what I'm gonna do, I have no idea! But I have to try! I owe them that," he said, straightening his back and standing tall.

"You don't owe them anything, Lance." Keith scoffed callously, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I told you so you could save your friend, not so that you could waltz back and get yourself killed." 

His mouth fell open as he stared down at him. Seriously? "Keith... Those are innocent people! What about Shay-- what about all the people who held them off while we got out. They're good people, I'm gonna try and save them, and you can't stop me."

Lance’s face dropped as Keith tore his eyes away, shoving past him to return to the cart.

"Fine! You go back to Balmera, I'll go to Taujeer on foot."

"Keith! I want to take you to Altea-- I just-- I'm going back! I’ve had my home destroyed! No one else deserves this!"

Keith paused his stomping, jaw gritting as he tried to imagine how Lance, the guy who always talked about his precious and beloved family, felt when his home was demolished.

He didn't have to try that hard.

He sighed at last, turning on his heel to face Lance with a much less hardened expression. "If I'm even going to consider this madness, you better have a plan."

"I-- I don't have one yet... b-but I heard there's a tinkerer or sorcerer or something in Taujeer. That she can create anything on a dime. We could see if we could hire her, get better weapons. We don't have numbers but I mean.... quality over quantity, right?" He smiled weakly.

"You're lucky you shoot good." Was the prince's final verdict, giving an 'I can't believe I like this guy' smile and eye-roll combo. "Let's go, we can't wait on Balmera and it sure as hell can't wait on us."

He beamed, his face lighting up like a sunny day, then shot forwards to hug him tight, spinning with him a little. "Thank you! People won’t forget what you’re doing for them!" He then paused, biting his lip and looking at Keith as he squirmed. "How do we tell Hunk?"

Keith placed his hands on Lance's chest after being unable to break his grip and looked up to him. "You're his friend and my ears have almost fallen off listening to you two talk, I'm sure you can break it to him. Just don't beat around the bush, Shay and the villagers don't have long."

"Give me ten minutes..." he said solemnly, standing and walking to the other. He'd pull him aside and, ten minutes later, they'd each return stony faced and serious. Lance hopped back in the wagon, Hunk doing the same.

"Let's go. We're burning daylight-- I want to get back before nightfall," Hunk murmured quietly, starting the second Keith got on, cracking the reins and towards the direction of Taujeer. 

Hunk, when motivated, was like charging bull. In most cases, they’d have several hours before arriving, but they rode fast and they rode far, pulling into Taujeer soon enough.

Thick fog seemed to hang in the air and the people of the town tended to cover their full bodies, giving the entire place some sort of other-worldly vibe. It was quiet and bland, quite literally the exact opposite of Balmera.

The group decided to split in two. Hunk apparently knew the fabled inventor that Lance had spoken of, so they chalked it up to him going off to swindle her into their mission whilst Lance and Keith sought out any Blade presence in the city. They left silently and swiftly, agreeing to rendezvous at the cart as soon as they’d sought out their individual missions-- successful or not.  
 

* * *

  
Ever since their disagreement, Keith had been quiet. Well, quieter, anyway; which, Lance didn’t think possible.

Lance followed after him as the prince kept his wits about him, fidgeting as they walked. "You don't have to come, you know. I don't want you getting hurt there."

"Would you prefer I get kidnapped on the side of the road and be forced to take up a life of prostitution?" Keith cocked a brow at Lance, jabbing his thumb in the direction of a brothel across the street. That had came waaay to quickly as a response and Lance had trouble formulating his own retort.

"KEITH!" He huffed, rubbing his temple a little. "You knew what I meant. And... just try not to get in the middle of it, okay? Promise me that much."

"I'm not letting you get your ass kicked alone-- but fine, I promise." Keith rolled his eyes and huffed, taking a swift glance over his shoulder. "Does it look like we're being tailed to you?"

Lance tensed, brow scrunching. Tailed? He casually glanced over his shoulder. "By which person?"

"Woman, red hair." He replied, looking back once more only to be met with no such person matching that description. "Or... nevermind. I think I need to catch up on sleep." Keith rubbed his eyes, which now had dark bags below them. He looked pretty drained, but there was still a spark in his eyes that kept him fueled. "I think the Blades have a few members stationed here, a blacksmith maybe?"

"A blacksmith? What's their name?" he asked, looking behind him and humming. "Was she wearing a green robe?" he asked stepping closer to him just in case. He frowned as he saw the bags under his eyes. Lance would have them, too, but Keith just looked miserable. "Do you need to rest?"

"I'm fine, I'll sleep on the ride back to Balmera. Forget it." Keith sniffed and placed his hands back at his sides. "His name is Antok, one of Kolivan's right-hand men. He's been stationed here for awhile, picking up on information from drunken Galra generals and the like."

"Right, right, sounds good." He hummed, wrinkling his nose a little as he looked around. "Who.... uh. Who's Kolivan?" he asked, keeping his eyes peeled. Anyone who even looked at Keith funny would get a glare from him, blocking their view a bit.

"Who's Kolivan?" Keith's lip curled at Lance's uninformed self. "Man you really are a forest hermit. Kolivan is the head of the Blades-- a total badass." The prince explained in a hushed tone, wary of whose attention they might attract. He patted the archer's upper arm then pointed to a run-down forge across the lane. "There's our man."

"Look, I've only lived in this land a few years, man. I'm doin my best," he grumbled, crossing his arms a bit. He would nod and study the forge, slowly walking over to it. "Excuse me? Sir?"

At the back of the forge was a man that almost made the entire smithy seem fitted for a hobbit. The Blade was enormous, the hammer in his hand seemed large enough to be mistaken for the almighty Mjolnir-- and its sole purpose was to bend iron it to shape for Christ's sake!

He didn't pick up on Lance's voice right away, his hearing seemingly weak. When he did catch a whiff of the two, he spun on his heel with surprising grace, a white-hot rod mere inches away from their chests.  The prince flinched heavily from Antok's actions, having grown up around him and knowing well of his clumsiness outside of battle. The man was huge, he couldn't help but to knock things over every five minutes.

"Antok, it's been awhile." Keith spoke hesitantly, gaining a grunt from the Blade. He leaned towards Lance and murmured, "He doesn't really speak much."

He winced at the sound of metal on metal, watching him hammer away. He listened to Keith and nodded some, stepping forwards.and brushing himself off a bit. "Pardon me, but uh... we need to uh.... let the Blades know Keith is okay? But we need go back to Balmera for a bit. Or... or just me. I don't know..." He looked at Keith as if to ask if he did it right.

He raised a hand to Lance, signalling for him to stand down for a second. "We need weapons." Keith demanded plain and simple, to which Antok responded by placing the hot rod into a steaming barrel of water and stepping away. The large Galra opened the door that lead to the connected shack of a home, ushering the two in before heaving a shelf full of pots and pans aside.

“Is he… confused?” Lance asked at the peculiar behavior, shielding his comment with his hand and leaning down towards Keith. The prince shook his head and prompted for the archer to watch Antok, to which he did and did so quietly.

The massive Galra pressed his bare hand (paw?) against the wall behind the shelf, which only went on to increase Lance’s suspicions. A moment of pressing passed and suddenly dust and rock peeled away, a rectangle-shaped crease forming in the wall. A door.

Lance’s jaw dropped as the blacksmith pushed the door the rest of the way open, revealing a downward descending set of stairs. “Awesome.”

Keith seemed rather smug about Lance’s reaction, head lifting as he as Antok stepped into the hidden bunker.

Lance would slowly follow behind them, rubbing the back of his neck. The stairs peeled away into  a grand open space, what was once an old mine transformed into some kind of secret base teeming with Blades.  "This is amazing.... you built all this?"

"It was built by the ancient Marmorians centuries ago-- dating back all the way to the Age of Paladins." Keith relayed with pride, exchanging a few friendly glances with the younger members that scuttled about. Many Blades sent the foreign archer weary stares, but averted their eyes as soon as Keith pressed his side against Lance-- a possessive gesture of sorts.

"That's amazing," he breathed, gently rubbing his fingers against the wall. He'd blush a bit when he got the stares, but he didn't flinch. He'd only smile and give a few little waves and hellos to those nearby. He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around Keith when he came closer and just smiled some, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze, letting go while he spoke.

"Antok, how many able bodies are you able to spare? I've found grounds to make allies with valuable resources-- but the Empire has eyes set on them as we do." the prince seemingly negotiated, not exactly lying.

Having seen the boy grow up, Antok usually knew when Keith had an ulterior motive. Though even more so, he knew better when the prince was dead-set on something. He scratched his chin before gesturing to a gesturing to a fresher batch of recruits, all younger initiates yet skilled all the same.

Keith observed the group with a pinch of salt, yet figured that six Blades were better than no Blades. "We appreciate the extra hands." The prince dipped his head and shook hands with Antok, who rumbled as he passed by Lance and Keith. He watched as the tall Blade began debriefing the initiates, a few of which seemed increasingly excited about finally seeing some real fighting against the empire. "They're greenhorns, I'm sure at least one will break character and talk." Keith reassured the silent Lance before leaving his side to take command over the small squad.

Lance looked at the recruits and smiled, waving at them. "Hello there! Name's Lance. It's a pleasure to meet all of you, everyone really. Ah... this group seems really cool, I'm just gonna.... yeah..." He shut up.

Keith shot Lance an amused look over his shoulder before he turned his full attention to the recruits before him. The talk lasted a good while as the prince filled in specific details and protocols, yet he kept it as brief as he could for the sake of time. "Strike quickly my brothers and sisters, we cast our heading to Balmera." he finalized, the entire group bowing in sync before dispersing among the base in search of their respective gear, Keith along with them.

And yet another lie was discovered. Keith had said he wasn't the leading type, but he was doing a wonderful time, and he couldn't help but smile as he listened.

   
Within a short span of time, Keith reappeared clad head to toe in Blade gear, a sword strapped at his side. "How are your arrows, sharp shooter?" the prince inquired whilst binding his hair. 

He would sort of pace when he left, and blinked a bit as he reappeared, looking him head to toe. Until then, Lance had seen him in a single dirty outfit, and while he was very cute, he couldn't help but think he looked damn good like this. He'd straighten up, clearing his throat, trying not to grin. "I-- uh... I could use a few more."

"Tharine and Zanira are our archers, they'll supply you with whatever you'll need." Keith let his hands rest on his hips once his hair was successfully tamed. Ah yes, his hips. Those things that had been concealed beneath his tattered shirt and shoddy, half-drained cloak. Tonight was different than nights prior, this time the prince was expecting to be spotted-- relying on it, even. Balmera was going to be the first town he would bring peace to in his own name, the next big stepping stone for ending the tyrannical power of Zarkon-- and it felt damn good. He whistled and immediately two female Blades came barreling to the prince's call, their longbows in hand. "Be nice, he's new." 

"Hey, sounds good!" His eyes sort of trailed down, cheeks reddening and flicking back up. It was a good night for him to be spotted. Like this, he looked like a leader, a symbol, he looked powerful. And hot. Very hot. He flashed a smile at the archers, nodding a little. "Hello, ladies. Normally, I’m pretty sure I'm the best archer in the room, but right now, I've got a hunch challenging you would not end well for me." He chuckled a bit. "I'm running low on arrows. Keith said you could help me out? Or... wait. Do you have a cool code name?"

The two women exchanged looks behind their helmets, looking to Keith as though expecting him to answer. He shook his head in response, "And make it quick." He waved as the two archers herded Lance towards the fletcher, a vast array of broadheads and shafts scattered amongst the wall with leather-bound quivers. 

He scampered off with them, looking around the room, jaw hanging open, feeling vaguely self conscious about the well loved quicker on his back. He began picking out arrows,holding them and carefully deciding before loading up.

After being egged on by the other recruits, one of the archers, Zanira, eventually wandered over to Lance and cleared her throat. "E-excuse me, but my teammates and I were wondering... is it true that you shot a colossal demon straight through the eye?" she asked, her eyes shining behind the glint of her helmet.

  
   
He turned around, looking at her with curious eyes and a small smile.

The other squad members had silently snuck up around the fletchery, all of them craning their necks for an answer. "P-Prince Kogane spoke highly of your marksmanship and we were curious, that is all."

At the question, he would beam bright as day and stand a little taller, brushing himself off some. "Uh, yeah! It is. Now, Becky was a gigantic chicken, but damn did she have beady eyes. I've had a lotta good shots but heck, I think that was my best," he said proudly. "You should see him in battle. He's amazing! Fast as lightning and downright deadly, too."

Upon receiving an answer, Zanira bowed her head with newfound respect. "I look forward to seeing your marksmanship on the battlefield, Sharp Shooter." She scuttled off to her teammates, the lot of them exchanging coins-- most of them handing them to Zanira. Little shits had bet on it.

He grinned at the little nickname, nodding some. "I can't wait to see you, too." He watched the group and snorted, only smiling wider. Yeah. He would have done the same damn thing. He could back the final few things up and watch the others, digging through his smaller pack and pulling out a pair of three fingered gloves, tugging them on.

"We're rolling out in five, be ready!" The prince called from across the bunker, sending the recruits in a final mad dash for last minute prep. After finishing his rounds, Keith rounded back towards Lance and tapped his shoulder. "Are you good? Sure you don't need anything else?" He hovered around him and looked him over, trying to check off things in his mind that they'd need. Maybe a little bit overboard, but the guy was jittery.

"Huh? Yeah. No, I’m good. Got arrows, my gloves. Got me lucky charms. Im set." He smiled at the other, desperately wishing he at least could have looked a little cleaner. "You’re doing great, by the way. And I see you told them about the best shot eyer?" He cooed, nudging him playfully.

Keith's face flushed cooly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Little snitches. I hope they weren't too pressy about it, I was trying to give them some morale." The prince smiled sheepishly, his heart finally calming down a bit. "It's gonna be hellish, but I think we have a fighting chance.

He laughed softly, smiling happily at the other. "No, no, they seemed all impressed-- I loved it," he chirped,"we have a good team here. Lotta spirit, I think. We could win this."

"I'm glad you think so." Keith beamed with pride, lifting a hand and signaling for the group to roll out. "Let's go save Balmera!"


	9. Battle for Balmera Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> 1300+ Hits, mein gott

If there was single word Lance could use to describe the bunker, it would be ‘intricate’. The tunnels were interwoven in immensely confusing loops and turns, ones which you could explore for hours, if not days, and still find a new nook or cranny.

It took the recruits’ denmother, a gentle looking fellow by the name of Magok, to help decipher the tunnel’s disorienting runes and directions. There was a hatch in the ceiling that led outside: a spiraling loop that leads to infinite leads locations. It was efficient and confusing all at once, which seemed fitting for an underground guild such as the Blades. 

Upon reaching the surface, Keith gathered the recruits into a neat band and turned to the bowman. While he undoubtedly already held the respect of the assembly, there was an air about the prince that put forth some sort of demanding dominance. 

Don't be fooled, however, it wasn’t as though he was actively trying to demand their obedience; it was simply how he presented himself that made him seem so followable. 

"Go get Hunk, I'll saddle up in the meantime."

Lance gave a playful salute; giving no real grief while getting bossed around. "Whatever you say, captain." 

Ah yes, and Lance was just as conformable as the others that had fallen compliant with Keith's orders and commands. Sure, Captain 'Not the Leading Type'. 

* * *

 

"Hey! I think we got en-- woah who are these guys?!" Hunk blinked with wide eyes, looking up to the lankiest of the group with surprise.

Another way to describe the Marmorians: tall as hell.

Even the shortest of the bunch was able to look down upon Lance; stare Hunk square in the eye; cause Keith’s neck to strain to look up; and don’t even get me started on the poor, short, cloaked woman that had an arm’s-full of explosives.

   Oh right, the poor, short, cloaked woman that had an arm’s-full of explosives,

"The Blade of Marmora? Man. Our chances are a LOT better than I thought." The lady smiled a bit and waddled up to Keith. Those around her cringed as a shady looking scrap of metal fell from her grip, everyone holding their breath until she finally stopped moving. She looked more like a pile of sorcery with legs as opposed to a woman from where Keith stood. "So. You’re that prince, right?"

"Sort of, yes." The prince gave her extended hand a careful shake, taking note of the explosives under her arm with a haphazard, dry swallow. "You must be our alchemist," Keith smiled slimly, pulling on the reigns of a sleek chestnut mare, "I cannot thank you enough for this." 

The prince raised his head, addressing the motley group of unlikely champions. "This is the first step towards ending the reign of Zarkon and restoring unity. It's time we fight for ourselves; moreover, others." The prince swung his leg up onto the horse, pulling himself up with a great heave.

All those that looked on gave a great hoot, each tending to their own as they readied for their upcoming skirmish. Though their numbers were few, their hearts were set and mighty.

Hunk swooped in to assist unloading Pidge's creations into the back of the cart, the two gushing about the intricacies of the molten metals and other quirks about the heavy artillery. 

Overall, no one knew what they were talking about aside from themselves; and they seemed rather proud of that fact.

* * *

 

The road was brutal from the mid-afternoon heat. Lance sweltered beneath the boiling rays, having been bamboozled by mid autumn’s weather. In most instances, the air would be cool if not a bit nippy around this time of year, so most of the troupe was miserably overdressed for the campaign. 

Though misery was the last thought on everyone’s mind; the Blades bustled amongst themselves, all of them having probably ached to get out of the cramped dugout back in Taujeer. 

Lance couldn’t say much for Pidge, seeing as how he wasn’t too well acquainted with her, nor was he aware of how Hunk had done to get an acquaintance such as her. She looked aloof, tending quietly to her trinkets and tools as the cart rolled forth.

It pained him to take notice, but Hunk looked tense the entire trip. Lance was furthermore painfully aware that it wasn’t simply because of the night-long ride the night previous. 

The bowman loosened his steady grip on the side of the wagon, glancing to the cart ahead of them. He strained his neck to catch the slightest glimpse of Keith, but couldn’t seem to flag his attention. He was focused. The way his shoulders squared back,  extending his chest forward; how his knees bent apart and hands clasped over the reigns, he was getting into position.

Only for a moment did his face reveal itself beneath his long strands of raven locks: a subtle grimace pulled at his lips as the light faded from the sky, casting a shadow over his face.

* * *

 

Hunk and Pidge planted a few of their bombs on the outskirts of town. They were of a design no one was truly familiar, having odd carvings that pulsated with energy. Whenever Lance tried to pull some information from the alchemist, she always deflected with bland, nonspecific answers. "Oh, just some old inscriptions," she said more than once, eventually tiring the archer of his curiosity. 

Besides, sitting idly by as the tinkerers did their tinkering only got him scolded. Keith whistled at him, jabbing a gloved finger towards the city below with an impatient glare. Yikes.

Lance found a tree and scaled it, getting his perch and eyeing the streets as best as he could from a safe distance. The two archers that belonged to the Marmorians found perches that covered Lance's blind spots while the other three Blades lined up alongside Keith. The prince stood below with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, "See anything?"

The archer tsked his lips. The town was enveloped in a deep black, the night sky descended quite some time ago; the vantage point would serve them little if he couldn't see a bloody thing. 

Lance had advised them to leave in at dawn, knowing fully well that they wouldn't be able to see a thing without the morning's light. Apparently, Keith had been insistent on leaving early enough that the Galra wouldn’t have sent full reinforcements. Safe to say, it was a narrow window that they hardly landed.

So, Lance was really earning his salt for having spotted a few patrols in such inky darkness.

"Guards. Patrolling the north side of town and coming this way, no clear shot yet," he whispered down to him, giving a curt nod.

Keith hummed in response and sent a few practiced hand signals to one of the Blades; they vanished in the brush without so much as an acknowledgment. 

"I'm going to scout ahead, cover me."

"The guards?" Lance reminded the prince, who only dipped his head toward the road below.

It happened in an instant and the guards were reduced little more than swatted gnats, overwhelmed by quick lethality. The archer could hardly erase the image, such a large guard struck down so mercilessly and quickly. The Blades.

"You were saying?"

* * *

 

Pidge and Hunk began quiet discussion and, after drinking a particularly unpleasant potion, Pidge would have vanished almost completely, a wobbling transparent figure in her place. She'd tap Keith's shoulder and exchange a quiet request.

"Very well, keep close," Keith replied, swinging a new cloak over his shoulders. The prince divided the remaining Blades and had them hang back for the time being.

It didn't take long to find that there was Galra influence present. The colorful motley of banners from the night previous laid trampled on the ground with burned tents and occasional bloodstains. 

With a shaky sigh, Lance crawled through the branches and jumped onto a roof to follow them.  The tiles were slick beneath his boots, but his footing held fast as he knocked a precocious arrow.

He held his breath. The Balmerans were gathered silently at town's square, all standing before a raised platform. Standing with hands bound behind her, Shay stood upon the platform with a raised head. She stood with several other Balmerans, heavily guarded and heavily bound.

A heavy, sniveling soldier sauntered his way to center stage, hacking a thick gob of spit at the feet of the prisoners with distaste. "For committing high treason against His Majesty, you are hereby sentenced to death. Perish without honor." The man barked, gesturing a grubby paw towards a hefty woman with an ax, beckoning her forth. The crowd shouted 'Mercy!' yet that only seemed to agitate the perpetrators further.

Lance swore under his breath as he gazed down at the scene. He looked at everyone, all those who danced the previous night and felt his heart sink. He knelt upon the roof with a drawn arrow ready to snap from his grip, and would wait for someone’s signal, ready to strike; but an unexpected outcry from within their ranks set him off.

"You wanna hurt her-- YOU BETTER GO THROUGH ME FIRST!" Hunk’s face broke when he saw her there, eyes widening, all breath stolen from his lungs. And within an instant it turned to fire, he bared his teeth and sprinted forwards, massive crossbow on his shoulder. 

Lance could see as Keith's eyes widened upon seeing Hunk break formation. 

The sound of Hunk's voice tore through the blank facade Shay had put up and her bound hands struggled with the rope, eyes wide with panic. A large woman held the Balmeran in place, her lips curled into a snarl. She was unfamiliar to Lance, but the very sight of her seemed to agitate Keith further.

"It's a trap, Hunk!" His hand fell to the hilt of his concealed sword but stopped short when a cloaked figure dashed through the crowd and behind Hunk. The only notable trait was long, crimson locks; otherwise, her form was blocked out by the coarse green cloak she harbored.

Lance would wince as he said it was a trap. Yeah. He fucked this up. But they'd have to power through. They had a job to do.

Keith had whipped out his sword and chased after her, pressing his blade to the back of her neck as she readied her dagger. The prince seethed and shouted some indecipherable phrase at her as she lunged, he gained no response, only a missed swing to the throat.

Lance's eyes were locked on the woman and when she lashed at Keith, he freed an arrow, aiming for her Achilles tendon, and another aimed just below her ribs.

Though each arrow was narrowly ducked and bobbed around, as were the swings Keith threw at her, the two arrows skimming past her body by millimeters. The broadhead skimmed her calf, causing a shallow gash to form. While the moves weren't fatal, it was enough to make her escape for cover. 

Lance growled some and knocked yet another arrow, squinting and training his blue eyes on her, holding his breath as he tried launching another at her knee before everything went to shit. He made a frustrated noise and watched the chaos unfold, trying to find any other Galra in the crowd. The whole court began to disperse as the fighting broke out, disorienting shouts and movements leaving those stationed in the crowd at a loss.

Hunk was a demon of fury by the time he'd powered through to the forefront of the crowd, finger floating over the trigger of his weapon as it steadied directly at the woman holding Shay. "Let her go! NOW!" 

Though it wasn't the bolt of Hunk's weapon that knocked the massive woman off her feet, but rather a jolt of bright energy and magic. Pidge had thrown her dagger, a cord connecting it to her arm and buzzing with electricity. The current was strong enough to knock her off of her game just long enough for Shay to duck away from her. As soon as Zethrid hesitated, the Balmeran spun on her heels and bashed her bound fists into her jaw, allowing the other captured Balmerans to flee from the platform.

Keith glanced up and had little choice but to assume that Lance had himself covered, so Keith decided to dive behind enemy lines-- going blade to blade with several guards.  

“Hunk, get to Shay!” Keith ordered, not that he expected him to do anything less than that. 

Keith didn't have to tell him twice. 

The moment Shay was free from Zethrid's grasp, he dove forwards to pull her out of the way, pulling her into a quick hug, briefly kissing her cheek before quickly undoing her bonds. "I'm so sorry... I never dreamed this would have happened," he breathed.

"What are you doing here?!" The woman exclaimed while temporarily in Hunk's grasp, her eyes searching over him frantically. Shay backed with him, watching with wonder and shock as he sent a barrage of arrows towards her captor.

One of the shots landed heavily on the woman's shoulder guard with a solid schunk, almost dislocating it upon impact. She yowled with fury, tearing up from the ground to attack Hunk with her bare hands, "Bastard! I will crush you!" 

"Did you think I wouldn't come back for you?" He smiled a little at her a bit. He chewed on his lip a moment, opening his mouth to say something only to be cut off by Zethrids yell. He dug into his pockets, pulling out a small orb and shooting a look Shays way. "Take cover-- SHIT SHIT!!" He began sprinting away from Zethrid, squeezing the explosive once and hurling it at Zethrids feet.

The bomb detonated upon impact, sending the general spiraling across the court, her body tattered enough for her to cease attacking. She went a solid couple of meters before ramming straight into a merchant's tent. 

Shay ducked her head and scuttled off with Hunk, the recoil of the bomb made her lose her footing yet no serious damage occurred. "You're crazy!"

And Hunk, bless his soul, desperately wanted to say something clever. Something fresh out of a story that would melt her heart or SOMETHING: like, 'crazy for you!' but instead, he gave a stammered 'Y-yeah.' before she kissed him full on and lead him down from the platform.

* * *

 

Moments after Zethrid soaring, a guttural snarl erupted from her throat as she clutched her paralyzed arm, “Narti, take out the archer!” 

   Her command was probably more beneficial to Lance than it was to herself, giving away the position of their own archer on the opposite end of the square. Disguised in the blackness of the night-sky was a creature, unlike Lance had seen before. At the order, there would be a silent nod, the cloaked general standing, tail whipping behind her. A cat would slowly begin to leap across the roofs and stand behind Lance, eyes locked on him.  

The bowman was unable to look away, suddenly aware of his own breathing and his open position as the undoubtedly possessed creature stared him down.

Narti would launch a few arrows Lance's way, then speed towards him.  He would clumsily dodge these and give a sigh of relief when he didn't fall. He looked around, not seeing Narti but witnessing Keith go for guards instead. He knelt down and managed to shoot one before being tackled, screeching and beginning to grapple with her, sliding towards the edge of the roof.

Having taken perch on the opposite end of the square, her ears flicked attentively at the sound of Lance struggling. She loosed an arrow at the roof, the broadhead aimed for Narti.

She wouldn't make a sound a the arrow hit her, but double over and release Lance, who would scramble away.  He'd gasp as the arrow flew by him, giving a little laugh and a thumbs up as he moved away some.

Narti pulled it from her shoulder and dropped it, shivering a second before glaring back at Lance, sweeping the legs out from under him with her tail and heading Zanira's way.  He grabbed an arrow to strike Narti only to gracelessly tumble off the roof. 

Breath escaped him as he rose to sit up, hissing with ears ringing a moment. He picked his bow back up, many of his arrows broken from the fall. 

His head spun and voices meshed in his ears. "Lance, you good?" That's a familiar one. 

It was Keith kneeled beside him, steadying him and patting his shoulders. "M'good, I'm fine." Lance insisted, the blurriness ebbing away as he steadied on Keith to rise up to his feet.

He rose a shaking finger to the opposite roof, falling once more as he watched the Blade, Zanira, loose another arrow at her assailant; though, just as the times previous, NArti evaded. There was a quiet  _ shunk _ once the general sent an arrow, which struck the woman's leg, downing the Blade with one swoop. 

Lance pulled his arm free from Keith’s grasp, rummaging through his battered quiver to pull out a single unharmed arrow.

“Lance! What are you doing?” The prince’s command went on unattentive ears as the archer drew back, letting out a painful hiss as the broadhead lined up with his shot.

Exhale, and  _ release _ .

A whistle and snap floated through the air, and the creature’s body slumped limply upon impact. Down she slid off of the roof, just as Lance had tumbled moments earlier. 

The Blade must have viewed it as a godsend, for she seemed just as surprised as the Empire general when the arrow struck true. Keith, more so surprised than them all.

"...They're calling for a retreat, it looks like they weren't expecting a huge resistance," Keith commented quietly, gently lowering Lance’s raised bow.

* * *

 

"Oh, gosh." He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was no big deal-- okay, it was pretty great--" as the others gathered, a starstruck look covered his face before being covered with a mask of cheesy confidence. "Hey, it was an honor to fight with you guys, but yeah. I am sorta a badass."

"Now don't push it." Keith rolled his eyes and stood up straight, his hands placing back on his hips.  The entire motley had regrouped at the center of town-square, all of them rejuvenated from the action. From the  _ victory _ ! 

Each of them spoke of their own feats, and many of the Blades swung about to give Lance their thanks for saving Zanira. He played it off as luck, but even so, everyone knew that he had a profound gift.

As the guards all started pulling back, some of the Blades began carting the fallen generals. The Blades managed to subdue several higher-ranking officials, binding them and setting them up where the Balmerans had once been. Before long, Balmerans began filing out of their homes in order to catch sight of what had just occurred.

"It... Looks like I have some explaining to do." The prince took in a deep breath and stood tall, glancing to Lance once.

He smiled encouragingly, patting his shoulder. "You can do it... you've done amazing so far.'

"Wish me luck, then." Keith rose up to the platform that had previously been threatened to be used as an execution dock, looking down at the Balmerans that had gathered. 

He smiled, kissing the prince's hand and giving a little bow. "Youll do great. Just speak from the heart. You don't need luck, you can do this!" He cheered.

The woman's smile warmed the apples of her cheeks, her thumbs rubbing the back of Hunk's hands as he spoke. 

"Come." She pulled him with her as she began to walk towards the platform, a soft chuckle bubbling out of her. 

Oh shit, this was a lot of people. Public speaking wasn't a new concept to Keith-- seeing as how he was of royal descent and such. However the one key difference between this and all the times previous-- he hadn't really planned out what he was going to say. 

"I... I'm sure that all of you are expecting answers." He called over the crowd, their clamoring quickly dying into hushed whispers.

He smiled widely up at the prince. He closed his eyes and rose his hands and dropped them, trying to symbolize breathing. He flashed a diamond smile at him, backing up and joining the crowd, calling, "You can do it, man!"

A heavy inhale, and a light exhale. Patience. The prince closed his eyes for a brief second, the intensity in them increasing tenfold when they reopened. 

"Citizens of Balmera! I have come here with the Blade of Marmora with a message.” 

There he goes, you got it, kid.

The Galra Empire, a known threat to  _ all  _ life, has far extended its bounds." He began, gesturing to the destruction that had taken place in the town square. All eyes followed, gazing upon the late night embers that smoldered their humble town. 

"This is only the beginning; war  _ is  _ inevitable if action is not taken. The Galra's reign is coming to a blazing end and Altea is fighting every day to subdue the flames. Rebel troops put their lives on the line every day in order to gain an inch-- but look at the steps we have taken today!" Upon his cue, several Empire officials were pulled onto the stage with bound hands and scowls on their faces. "Prince Lotor's top-trained generals have fallen to our blades, so it's time we all take up arms-- fight for your homeland!"

Keith held up his blade with a determined grin once the crowd erupted into passionate whoops and cries, men, women, and children alike all calling for the rebellion. For  _ freedom _ . 

The prince's eyes had to scan the crowd only for a moment before his eyes fell on Lance, his gaze holding on him. His archer. 

His heart skipped when Keith’s eyes fell on him, his smile widening, his eyes glistening. He was a prince but damn. Even after a few days, he would always be his prince.

His prince. 

His prince, who didn’t see the shroud of murky blackness bubble at the back of the crowd.

His prince, who hadn’t the slightest clue as an arrow was loosed from above, only to be made painfully aware as it wedged into his front and knocked him back. 

Lance had lifted his bow to signify their victory, only to choke on his own words as a sickening crack split the air. The crowd was so caught up in its own excitement that it made no retaliation, not even taking notice of the downed prince, but when  _ he  _ heard the crack, it felt as though his world, the mirage of perfection, shattered. 

 

“KEITH!”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a Kudo and Comment, we always reply !
> 
> Zombi's Tumblr: http://zombisexual-axolotl.tumblr.com/
> 
> My Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/pumpkolantern


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